#g/t hurt and comfort

[coffehbeans]

Gt WAC Day 23

"A story with a nonhuman/ monstrous character"

THIS, this was a challenge to write ahsushus I'm so nervous cause it took me SO long and as per usual I'm still unsure about it.

This story is based on a dream I had a month ago, I was writing it since then so i could post it on day 23 of gtwac. So yep, new character. It's different from what I've wrote so far, but I hope you guys enjoy it!

Depending on the reception of this story I will continue it, but fair warning that it'll not be a happy one (IF I continue it).

I'm not sure if I'll rate this chapter in particular as above PG-13, but general warning for overall spooky, unsettling vibes.

Enjoy!

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Edward Becker has not seen his wife in seven years.

People called him crazy for waiting for her return. "She's done for", someone mentioned. "Why don't you find another one?", someone suggested, all falling in deaf ears as every single day, he'd go back from work, sit by the porch, and wait for her until the sun went down. A useless effort, as they said, a delusional hope, or the sign of going mad. But for Edward, it was his strength. The only support for his failed attempts at finding her. His last pillar of sanity that made him get up every morning and wait for her until nightfall. His wife would come back, like she always did. She would come back to his open arms, embrace him gently like she used to, cover him with kisses as he pulled her close. They would giggle and enter their home, enjoy a nice meal they cooked together, talking about their day during dinner, about plans for rebuilding their house, plans for a new job he wanted to get, plans about their future children. When night falls, they would sleep holding each other tight, relishing in their shared warmth.

All he had to do was wait for her by the porch.

...

One day, she did comeback.

It was past midnight. So dark and cold outside, most animals have gone to sleep, making the woods around his remote home dead silent. The cows and chickens of his small farm uttered no sound as they slept, and the wind billowed the wheat fields outside, his plain wooden house colored pitch black by the late-night sky. It was a weathered home, well kept indoors but in need of repairs, with ripped, dingy furniture and leaks on the roof. It was protected by a measly three-feet-tall fence that threatened to fall apart, and over the backyard, where the overgrown grass was blown by the wind, laid a simple wooden shed meant for storing farming equipment. Tossing and turning on his bed, Edward sat up with a jolt, sweat dripping on his face as anxiety threatened to eat him whole. He sighed, holding his face in his trembling hands, and letting out a shaky breath. He couldn't fall asleep in those nights, where the memory of Cordelia haunted his mind in his dreams, ones where she wore desperate expressions as she's dragged away from him by detached, withered hands, and no matter how much he ran, he didn't reach her. Nightmares where he found her dead body, pale and laying limp, lifeless eyes staring at him. Nightmares where he found her hurt, bleeding and beaten up, face covered by bruises ­– in most nights, those visions would plague him.

With a shiver, Edward got up, lighting up the oil lantern. He trudged for the kitchen, on his way to do the same as usual: put some water over the wood burning stove, boil it, try this new tea his friend had brought for him, and drink it aimlessly, hoping in vain for sleep to come back.

He sluggishly put wood pieces inside the firebox, reaching a hand for the lighter on the table. A flicker, two, and the fire was lit. He put the kettle over the stove with a clank, and stared at it blankly, waiting for bubbles to form. The house was pitch black, only the flickering flames of the stove and the lamp’s dim glow illuminated the room.

A loud sizzling of the kettle snapped Edward out of his torpor as the water boiled. He picked the hot handle, feeling its heat burning his skin, lifted it from the fire and — THUMP. A loud thud by the window behind him sent him jumping, fumbling with the kettle in his hands, heartbeat skyrocketing. He banged it on the table. Hot droplets prickled his hand. He turned around with rapid breaths. A blurred shadow dashed away from the window, sending a cold chill down his spine, the wind howling and heavy thuds echoing outside the house’s walls. Rhythmical and constant. Pounding on the ground. Edward sucked in a breath, head ringing against his skull. He stomped towards the cabinet containing his shotgun. There were thieves? In the middle of the night? Were they finally coming to steal a poor and mad man's house? He wouldn't allow it.

He can’t die yet. Not until Cordelia comes back to him.

Loading the gun with precise clicks, Edward aimed it at the window, darting his aim from window to window until he reached the door, the last place he heard the strange sound. With trembling hands over the trigger, his eyes focused on an invisible target. He held his breath, standing still. Not a single sound. Ears trained on any disturbance. THUMP. THUMP. A shadow passed by the window to his right. BANG!

He twisted his body and shot, missing the shadow by an inch.

"W-who's there!?" He shouted in a trepid tone.

No answer. Not even a sound. Maybe the sound of breathing. He couldn't tell. He couldn't tell if it was someone's breathing or his own.

The “sshhhs” and “thuds” echoed around him, heading towards the backyard. Edward adjusted the position of the gun in his arms.

He took a deep breath.

Edward ran to the back door and slammed it open with a kick, pointing the trembling shotgun towards the field. The sky was pitch-black outside, engulfing the horizon with its inky tint, and the stars didn't dare approach the darkness. The faint moonlight was partially obscured by the clouds, its glow too weak to lighten the outdoors. He huffed, feeling the weight of his gun, and headed further into the backyard with measured steps. His shoes crunched the grass below, the dry air amplifying the sound of his stride. Deadly silence filled the field. A puff of smoke left his nostrils as warm exhale met with the frigid air. Tightening the grip around the gun, he aimed it at the decrepit shed. Waiting for movement. Eyes trained forward. The dark blur of a large silhouette shifted behind it.

BANG.

He shot. Once. Twice. The sound of the bullets making his ears ring, metal creating holes in the aged wood. A loud, high-pitched, and definitely human scream cried behind it.

He stopped shooting, heart leaping to his throat. A weight plunked in his insides, making him loose the tight grip on his gun. Behind the shed, he heard it. A gasp. A whimper. A sob. Clearly feminine. Edward lowered the gun, furrowing his brows as the cries made a lump form inside his throat. A trick to let his guard down? A trap? It must be a trick for sure. No way an innocent person would show up in the middle of the night. No, there's no way. Goosebumps trailed down his back as the cries reached his ears. Why was there even someonehere?

The sobbing got louder, echoing in the cold, dark night. He shivered when the shrill voice reverberated in his ears, an uncomfortable knot twisting in his stomach at the thought he could have shot an innocent woman.

"Who... Who's there?" He repeated, cautious this time, as if talking to a cowering animal.

The sobs dwindled little by little. He didn't dare move. The figure was hidden behind the shed, not even the faint moonlight giving a glimpse of its appearance.

Finally, he heard it: that feminine voice. Frail, faint, and so utterly scared.

Its familiarity so potent, something clogged in his throat.

"... Ed..."

That voice. The voice he waited for so many years by the porch. The voice he dreamed of in his sleep. Screaming. Crying for help. Calling for his name.

"... Edward..."

The same voice that recited sweet words of so much care, so much love and adoration to him every day. The voice that followed a gentle embrace, the smell of perfume and a prolonged kiss. The same voice that said "I do" by the altar over 12 years ago, that whispered close to his ear, giggling with joy. The voice that chatted to him relentlessly, which he couldn't get enough of. The voice that laughed, cried, shouted, only to say sweet words of gentle love again. That melodic yet striking voice. Edward didn't notice the tears falling from his face. Didn't notice the gun falling to the ground. Didn't notice his feet moving on his own, towards the shed, towards the faint possibility that she was behind it. He stumbled faster towards it, raising a trembling hand. "C-Cordelia?!" "NO! DON'T COME CLOSER!" The powerful shout made him stop dead on his tracks, ears complaining from its sheer force. He never heard his wife sound so... Desperate. In panic. "... H-honey...?" "Pl-please... D-don't come closer yet." She said, her voice returning to its normal pitch, but shaking with trepidation.

  "W-what's wrong...? Did I –"

Then he remembered it. The gun. The shootings. The fact he almost killed his own wife. His heart sank, face turning pale, his voice hoarse.

"Oh God. It's - it's really you, it was you and I almost, I-I a-almost... A-are you hurt? Are you bleeding? I –"

Edward took more shaking steps towards it, the nightmare of his dead wife still clear in his mind.

"NO!" - He stopped again. - "I-I'm fine! I'm not hurt, you d-didn’t hit me."

Edward covered his face with a hand and stopped himself from wanting to vomit.

"Cordelia I'm- ... I-I'm so, so sorry I thought it was a thief, I..."

He lowered his head, and took a shaky breath.

"Am I going crazy? Is – is it r-really you?! I, I waited for s-so long – I thought you were dead —!"

Tears poured desperately from Edward's eyes, his attempts to stop his sobs coming in vain. He hiccupped under his cries, breathing rapidly as reality came crashing down and years of restrained emotion leaked out. The voice sounded just like her. The voice could really be her.

‘Then, if it’s her, why is she hiding?’

"Please, d-dear, if it's really you..." - he whispered, his voice croaky and dry. Tears continued to fall.

"Please let me see you..." The shed grew eerily silent. Cold air made him quiver. A silent second spread throughout the night, the sounds of his sobs echoing through the pitch-black darkness. "I... I can't."

She whispered back in a shaky voice. Unsure. Afraid. Edward raised his head, glancing to the fallen gun on the grass, a realization hitting deep inside his stomach. "Are you scared of me...?" A pause. He heard her sucking in a breath. A long, deep exhale was carried by the wind. Her voice faint and trembling. "N-no... Dear, I... I'm not scared of you." The shed's wood creaked, like something was gripping it and scratching it down. "...I'm scared of myself." Edward's guilty expression changed to confusion. He furrowed his brows. A part of him wanted to giggle. His adorable wife, scared of herself? Why? She always had some impatience and anger she was discontent about, but even so... That made no sense. The way she acted, hiding from him, made no sense. Another part of Edward felt an odd sense of dread. As if something was not right. "Honey, why are you hiding from me? I... I waited for so long... I-I searched everywhere for you, and when I couldn't find anything, I waited. And when I couldn't wait anymore, I prayed. I hoped. I-I never paid attention to what the others said, even if they called me crazy." He took a step towards the shed. She sucked in a breath. Edward didn't notice more tears started to pour from his face. "And it's you, r-right? It's you who's behind here, right? Alive and well? Please dear... Don't let me think I've gone crazy!" He took another step closer. Then another. She whimpered behind the decrepit barn. Edward's vision was blurry from his own tears, but he didn't care anymore. He just needed to see her, even if it wasn't true. Even if he died.

Gosh, he just wanted to see her.

"Honey, DON'T!" The sheer loudness of her rigid voice made him stop dead on his tracks again. He opened his mouth, ready to protest, but Cordelia interrupted him.

"It's n-not... It's not that I'm not alive and well, Edward..." "So why are y-"

"...I-it's that I don't know what I am anymore..." He paused. That uneasy sense of dread sank heavier inside him. "What...? Cordelia, what do you mean-" "If I," – She interrupted, taking a deep breath. – "If I really come out of this shed, Will you promise, promise me that you will not run?" A shiver ran down his spine. Heartbeat rocked harder against his chest. Something's not right. Something's clearly not right. But Edward planted his feet firmly on the ground. It was his wife's voice. He lost her seven years ago. He doesn't know what happened to her in that time. She could be different from how she looked back then, hurt and bruised from whatever abuse they inflicted on her. Rage bubbled up inside him. Whoever did anything to her, he would kill them in cold blood. They would pay for taking her away from him. Being hurt and disfigured by her captors… That was probably what Cordelia meant.

There was no need for him to feel so nervous.

"You know I love you, dear... No matter what. You know I'd never run away from you... So why would you even ask that?"

"Please, Edward." She said louder than he expected. Desperate. Too desperate. "Please promise you won't run." The moonlight cast over the shed, the little gaps between the wooden plates showing a faint shadow behind it. A hulking mass, piled up like a bundle of hay, a head peeking out of the lump as if there was no body attached to it. Edward's eyes widened, heart drumming faster in his chest. Cold sweat scurried down his forehead. 'What is that?' And yet, he couldn't deny the pleading voice of his wife, sounding exactly as she did seven years ago. It couldn't possibly not be her. Something grave must have happened when she was gone, and that's why she was so afraid. Yes, that's most likely it.

So Edward gulped his nervousness down, and wiped the sweat from his face.

"Honey... I promise I won't run away from you... I would never run away from you."

A light, quiet wail whispered in the cold night, slowly dwindling down. A sniff sounded behind the shed. A long inhale and exhale belonging to powerful lungs.

Silence.

"... Alright."

And the heavy sound of something dragging over the earth.

A form encased in shadow peeked from the wooden walls over fourteen feet above him. Edward took a while to notice the large silhouette was a head. His wife's head. It was truly, truly her! Looking just like he remembered and – pale. So sickeningly pale. A dark and somber expression covered her face. Her eyes were baggy and downcast, white lips trembling. But more importantly, he couldn't understand why she has so high up.

"P-please..." - she uttered, almost to herself. - Please don't run..." Gargantuan claws appeared next to her, black, sharp nails curling over the creaking wood. A long, bony hand covered by charcoal scales. His wife pressed her eyes firmly shut. Edward took a step back, his mouth going dry. The sinking feeling in his stomach cut deeper. And then he saw why she was so high up.

The rest of her appeared under the pale moonlight, her form triple of a human size. A gigantic torso loomed over him like a small tree, covering him in her shadow. She wore nothing on her, long, mahogany hair covering her chest.

Then he looked down.

Black and yellow scales jutted out of her skin, covering her lower half, legs attached together in a single, cylindrical body that twitched and writhed as it came closer. The thick tail uncoiled behind the shed, extending further and further to Edward's right, so much so it could envelop around him if it moved. With loud thumps, Cordelia's massive form fell on the ground, hair obscuring her downcast face. Black talons gripped the soil as she pushed herself forward. Rough and coarse scales scraping against the earth as the hulking, round tail crunched the grass and lugged over it like a corpse dragging on the dirt. Rocks broke with a sickening "crunch" under its weight.

Edward's face contorted in shock. He took one, two steps back, eyes widening in horror, shaken to the core as his heart jumped in his throat. Pounding harder against his ribcage.

It was a gargantuan something, half snake, half something that resembled human. Resembled his wife. He mumbled incomprehensibly. Primal fear took over him. A crying, shaky voice resounded from the creature's mouth. A clawed hand the size of his head reaching out to him. "P-please... Edward..." He ran. He screamed bloody murder and dashed back towards his house, hearing it holler back his name. Tears fell from his eyes, desperation taking hold of his body. A deafening sound of thumps and scratches came from behind him, growing closer, coming for him.

"WAIT–!" Tha thing can’t be his wife. Whatever it was it could not be his wife. It shouldn't be his wife. It shouldn't be human. He ran through the house's corridors, left became right and up became down and the crunches behind him grew louder and louder and he had to hide, he had to hide but there was nothing in his room aside from the cold, old bed so he bolted, ran and ducked under it, mumbling shaky prayers, begging to heavens for his life. Begging that he was hallucinating. To not die to someone who looked so much like her.

That couldn't be real. He heaved. It can't be real, can't be real can't be real it can’t – He's gone crazy. Yes, that must be it. He's finally gone mad and that’s why.

But the cracks of the floorboards under the creature's weight sounded far too real for him to doubt. The scratching of the claws over the ground as it dragged its gargantuan body caused a fear too intense for him to doubt. The cracking of the walls as it squeezed itself inside felt too real for him to doubt. Edward clamped his mouth shut with a shaking hand, curling up under the bed and closing his eyes tight. If he remained immovable, if he remained silent, maybe it wouldn't find him. Maybe he wouldn't die. He gulped down a whimper that threatened to escape from his throat. Cordelia's voice resonated from the creature's mouth again. Weak, raspy, and grieving. It was a strategy to lure him out. Yes. That was probably it. It couldn't possibly be something else. Because that huge monster with crude scales couldn't be his wife, with soft skin and flowing hair, with her dress that billowed in the wind when they walked over green fields together. No. That thing could not be her. "Edward... Please, I-I..." She whispered under her heavy sobs. Loud thumps echoed outside the room. "I won't hurt you... Please believe me!"

The sobs that sounded so much like her broke his heart in half. But he remembered to what it belonged to. He would not fall for it. Even if he wanted to scream for help, knowing that no one would come. Even if a part of him wanted nothing more than believe it was all true and run towards its scaly arms. He gulped down his screams of fear, and remained silent. Frozen. Unmoving. He would not fall for it

The scrapes and scratches got louder. Scales hissed over the floorboards that chirred in protest.

"I'm not a monster. I'm not –" A claw unhinged itself from the floor and the creature raised itself up. A loud bump thundered on the ceiling, a shocked gasp echoed in the dry air. Edward clutched his eyes shut. Dust and debris fell on the ground. The monster laid down again, a heavy bang thundering in the silent house. The floorboards groaned as it settled on the ground.

"If you... If you look at me like that again, I-I think I'll go crazy... I can't stand it!"

Loud sobs filled the house. Edward flinched and clutched his eyes shut, breathing heavily, curling further inside himself. He resisted the urge to break down into tears.

The dragging and shuffling got heavier. The floorboards of his bedroom, the ones he was currently laid over, creaked in complaint of the weight being placed upon them. The sound got louder. Closer.

It was entering his room.

He sucked in a quivering gasp. Heart threatening to escape his throat, he shook as if the room was freezing cold, tears cascading down his face at the thought that he really could die now. He would die. He would die. Maybe he should. Maybe she should just end him.

He saw it. The black and yellow scales, shimmering as it moved. The snake body crawling as it reached the door, so massive it got stuck in the door frame. A push or two and it got free, the walls around it cracked, dust fell around him and a crunching sound reverberated in the room. Black claws scraped the ground, wood screeching in the deafening silence. A towering human body, pale torso as tall as him, laid down, auburn locks of hair trailing on the floor. The face obscured by its raised head.

It stopped moving. He looked at its skin with heaving breaths and widened eyes.

They remained still for what felt like an eternity. The only sound was his own heartbeat, his breathing and the creature's. The tail twitched and thumped against the walls with a loud noise. He flinched as his eyes darted back and forth, hearing the friction of scales against wood.

Silence.

She sniffed. And spoke first. "... When the civil war happened, we hid here once. You would wrap your arms around me, and we'd curl up together under the bed, praying that it'd protect us." – she whispered.

"– But even when I cried, even when we thought we would die, I still felt safe with you. Do you remember that, dear…?"

The sorrowful voice spoke of memories that a monster should not have. Edward felt cold. So cold, alone under that bed.

He closed his eyes tightly shut. Maybe, after a while, he wouldn't see her when he opened them. Hugging himself, Edward shuddered as a shiver crawled up his spine. Maybe he could still return to a normal life, where he didn’t hallucinate. Maybe he could still pretend none of this happened.

There was a shifting sound, and he sucked in a trepid breath. A thud, right in front of him. With his lips trembling, and teeth grinding against each other, Edward wondered if his death would be quick. But time stretched as the room fell into stifling silence, the monster's breathing ruffling on his face. It was right in front of him. He knew. He knew that he should just keep his eyes closed, waiting for his death. He knew that. His heart hurt inside his ribcage from pounding so hard, and his stomach sank lower with fear. He should close his eyes more firmly. He should just wait a while longer.

But instead, he opened them.

Her face. Her same crying face, if not for the magnified size and its greyish blue eyes with slitted pupils. A shadow of what once was her. His wife. The one he waited for so long. The one he imagined walking back to him as he sat by that porch every day. It did come back, as a monster, a ghost ready to haunt him, blame him for the pathetic man that he was, for not being able to prevent her from going missing. A reflection of what he lost. Evidence of his cowardice. A sign that he has gone mad.

That's what he wanted to believe.

But the face that resembled his wife so faithfully mirrored his expression of dread and grief. It covered itself in such humanity, with the exhausted eyes dripping with tears. With the mouth, when its pale lips parted as it sucked in a shaky breath, even if it revealed sharp teeth underneath. With its thick, auburn hair as it clung to her sweating face. It looked so distinctly human. So distinctly real. Not at all like a ghost. Not at all like a monster out to hunt him.

In that closeup by the gap under the bed, it just looked like his wife.

Edward’s breathing got less exasperated. His heart rocked less inside his chest. His tears dried as his widened eyes remained frozen on the figure before him. He glared at its mouth, as it opened to speak.

"Edward..." It whispered. So silently, so tender yet certain, just like the time when he had her by his side.

"... I am real."

The tears resurfaced, a mix of fear, hope and despair turned into quiet, then loud sobs, then muffled screams as Edward cried and curled up further under the bed, letting out years of frustration. Years of guilt as it made his chest hurt and his breathing to narrow. He couldn't hear her, who was sobbing on her own, as he drowned in the sorrows that leaked out of his weathered body like a dam that has been broken. Did he have her back? Could he really put a stop to this? He felt guilty. So guilty. Was that his fault? If he found her, would she have turned out like this? No, she wouldn’t. He knew she wouldn’t and that was why the tears wouldn’t stop. If the monster wanted to hurt him, Edward wouldn’t blame it, not even a little.

When he started to calm down, he didn't realize the creature was still there, in front of him, with tears gathered on its enlarged face. He regained his breath, steadily and gradually, refocusing his eyes on the grey blue irises. Her gaze softened, just like when she greeted him home after a tiring day, eyes inviting him for peaceful rest.

He needed that rest. More so than any other day.

"If I... If I move away, will you come out?"

She whispered so quietly Edward struggled to hear it. But it still sounded the same, that sweet, honeyed voice that said “I love you” with so much earnest and ease. But a part of him still doubted. His body still trembled under her alien gaze. Doubts echoed in his mind, and adrenaline pumped in his veins. If this was her, then how? Why? What kind of degenerate devil would do this to her?

But still, he wanted to believe... He did, but... He didn't want to die.

"Dear... If I wanted to hurt you, don't you think I'd already done so?"

There it was, her bolder side, the one that always made her win an argument, that scolded him sometimes but he always loved it when she did. The one that now made him snap out of it, and helped Edward realize that he didn't have any power in this situation from the very beginning. The creature was huge and could see him. Indeed, if it wanted it would have hurt him long ago. Edward repeated this in his head over and over until it was enough to clear his mind.

In a glimpse of calmness, he managed to speak in what was left of his hoarse voice. "Yes... You're right, honey." And she smiled. A relieved, sad smile, one that did not have any hope in it, but that was glad he at least spoke to her like a person. Like his wife. Even if it was only for a little bit.

  She got up, the long claws visible for a second in Edward's field of vision. They recoiled towards the snake creature's chest as if it had touched a burning kettle, knowing he had seen its intimidating appendage. It shifted its body away and the scales glistened as it slithered towards the door. After a while, it stopped. The area in front of Edward was free to move now.

His heartbeat rocked louder. What if the moment he leaves it slices him open with those claws... – No. 'Snap out of it. Snap out of it.'  he repeated in his head, recalling the events and the fact that if it was a predator after its prey, he was already too difficult to be bothered with. He would be fine, Edward assumed. He had to be.

And if all of that was a lie, then it was better that he died anyway, granting the sweet release of death instead of sinking into his madness.

Because if all that he saw this night was not real, then he really has gone mad.

Edward took a deep breath. One... Two... The snake creature remained still.

Three.

He scrambled away from the bed and sat up in a hurry, heaving like he had run a marathon. Eyes closed. Waiting for the inevitable.

It never came.

So he opened his eyes, coming face to face with the creature's scales stretching in the distance. His heart throbbed.

"I-it's okay, honey... You're doing great." She whispered, voice clogged by her own desire to break down into tears.

Edward took another deep breath. In… And out. No closing his eyes now. And slowly, he raised his head up, searching for the face of his beloved. Even if he was shaking from head to toe.

His eyes trailed up her body. Nervous and slim hands, covered by black scales, interlaced over her lap. The scales of her tail became thinner and thinner as he looked up, their color contrasting against the ivory skin of her human upper body. It was ashen, slim, the torso alone was as tall as he was. He looked to the chest concealed by her hair, mahogany and wavy, just like he remembered, although the strands were much longer and thicker than before. And finally, he reached it. The same sweet, tender face, looking down at him. The trembling lips struggled to show a reassuring smile, forcing her mouth shut in order to cover the fangs underneath it. Those elongated eyes, with thick eyelashes that fluttered, blinking away tears. The same straight nose. Those previously beautiful blue eyes, now a greyer shade and with pupils like a reptile's, yet with that human, longing glance, darting around Edward's face as she analyzed his every expression.

It was her. No doubt about that now.

Edward opened his mouth and closed it, struggling to form words. Thoughts spiraled inside his mind. Feelings of guilt, frustration, anger, indignation. Fear. Sorrow. Pain.

Yet hope. Above all it was hope.

Edward got up, not taking his eyes off hers.

That was no monster. It was, indeed, his wife.

"Oh, Cordelia, what have they done to you?"

His voice whispered, thick with sorrow. He looked up to see pools of tears splashing from Cordelia's face, a clear expression of relief. She sobbed, burying her face in her clawed hands, relieved that her husband called her by her name again. Relieved that he was here. Relieved that he didn't see her as a monster, at least for that moment. A piece of humanity she lost, a piece of her previous life that she missed, a piece of hope that was snatched away from her seven years ago and that she never thought she'd have again. It was returning for her.

He was returning for her.

Cordelia was surprised by a warm touch over her scaled lap. She wiped the tears from her eyes with the rough back of her hand, looking down with a gasp. Her husband was rubbing his hand over it, tiny and shaking, comforting her. An attempt to reach out.

"D-don't. They are hideous..." Tears flowed on her face.

‘Indeed, they were’, Edward thought. He never liked snakes, their scales always making his skin crawl whenever he found one in the farm. The feeling wasn't any different as he trailed his hands over her, goosebumps raised the hairs on his skin and he shuddered with each motion. Edward exhaled shakily. No matter how much he looked at it, even if everything felt unreal at the moment, he couldn’t deny who was in front of him.

"They are still you." He said.

Cordelia widened her eyes and Edward looked up at her with compassion on his face. Love, longing. They both yearned for that. For the same feeling to return to them. For the same life, that was so cruelly snatched away from them, to return as if nothing had gotten between them in the first place. Even if it was a pointless dream.

They fumbled awkwardly at what to do.

Edward wasn't sure how to proceed. His mind conjured images of him holding her tightly, back to her human form, like a dream manifesting. Yet the reality loomed over him and the long tail that filled his bedroom in multiple coils covered his skin with goosebumps, a knot tightening on his throat.

He looked up and confirmed it, Cordelia's unsure face was there. He’s not crazy. All of that was still her.

She looked away under his apprehensive gaze, turning deep red and ashamed of herself. Edward took a deep breath; she didn’t feel well and he needed to fix this. He looked down. Then looked up again.

"Can I hold you?"

The question took Cordelia aback. She backed away from him and widened her eyes. Her tail bumped on the cabinet and he twisted his neck towards the source of the sound, clearly flinching from the movement.

He was still terrified of her. Then, why...?

"You don't need to do this, Edward. You did great already –“

"No. I want to do this. If you're really you, I want to do this."

Cordelia looked down and saw Edward's determined face. Her heart broke silently inside her. Why he was so adamant in dealing with her, Cordelia didn't know. But gosh, if it wasn't for his fear and for her disgusting claws, she'd have held him close a long time ago. She missed it so much. How much she missed his strong embrace.

So she nodded, and he came closer.

Edward couldn't quite contain how much he was shaking. Couldn't contain his jolt when he touched her frigid skin, chills crawling down his spine. But despite this, he pushed on forward, kneeling over her scaled lap, glancing at how they shone even in the partial darkness. With silent fascination, Cordelia let her arms hover around him.

A moment hung between them.

And Edward latched onto her. He rested on her torso and enveloped his arms around her, as much as he could, as they barely reached her back. Cold. She was cold like a corpse. He rested his cheek against her stomach, shivering upon contact. Gosh, it was so cold. He wanted to pull away. He wanted to hold her closer. Cordelia didn't remember the last time she sensed so much warmth. She felt herself getting hot inside even when she thought she was not capable of feeling warm anymore. Edward snuggled closer to her chest, and she sighed, relishing in his contact. Gently, like she was cradling an injured bird, Cordelia enveloped her arms around him, careful not to hold him too tight or not to loom over him, either. Gosh, the way her arms completely engulfed him... She felt monstrous. Edward shrank upon contact and she started to let him go, fearing this was a bad decision, but the feeling of his hug getting tighter made her arms remain still.

They stayed like this for an amount of time, taking in each other’s presence. Edward heard his wife's strong heartbeat against him, which grounded him in his current predicament, but still... Maybe he'd blink and she'd be gone, or maybe something would finally reveal that he'd made all of that up. Cordelia's embrace got a little tighter, not in a way that was hurting him, but she shifted around and her shadow loomed over as she curled around him. Her arms closed the hug in, and his heart skipped a beat.

"I missed you." she croaked.

She leaned over Edward, pulling him closer. He sighed in sweet relief upon hearing her melodic voice, feeling exhaustion weighing down on him as his body relaxed. He sank in her gentle embrace, kissing the surface of the freezing cold skin.

"I missed you too, dear."

...

They were laying on their backs under the early morning light, on the floor of the same bedroom where everything happened. Cordelia's tail stretched way further outside the room, disappearing through the door. Edward rested on top of her, not after much insistence that he wrapped a warm blanket around him. He ran his fingers through her hair, dazed, letting the reality of the situation sink in. He wasn't exactly afraid now, but the memories of the night made his heart twist with a mix of dread and guilt. Edward needed to know. How bad was everything that happened to her? Too much happened, she was gone, and now he had her back. It felt unreal and too real at the same time. And yet, Edward needed answers. Maybe, just for a few minutes, he thought, they could stay like this, and pretend that nothing had happened, but he knew that curiosity would get the best of him. Cordelia looked down at her husband with tenderness, watching as he caressed her hair, as she avoided touching him with her claws. She noticed his pensive expression and frowned.

“Is something wrong?

Edward hesitated, looking for ways to phrase his question. "What happened that made you turn into this?" He asked finally, tone even, yet with seething rage building up inside his chest. "Who did this to you?"

Cordelia sighed, closing her eyes. All the memories surfaced in her head like a messy conjecture of disfigured images and sounds. She took a shuddering breath, and spoke.

"I regained memories of you first before I remembered my own name..."

[stanlees-stuff]

"Cc we're sorry, just .... please don't be scared, I promise we won't hurt you..."

based on @kix-mm's story here

DAMM, I never knew I needed gt throuples in my life till now!! decided to draw one of the scenes in the story. AAAH THE STORY WAS SO GOOD!! The amount of love they have for each other is just so fricking sweet!! and how much you can tell A and B cherish C and want them in their lives

anyways kix is a really good writer, bye >:]

[afraidparade]

comfort

[imagine-darksiders]

So, what do you think of this? Bowser sees Y/N in an extreme state of danger, like, I dunno, trying to be taken against her will by an arranged Prince suitor or something, and the state of her distress/fear get's him so mad he transforms into Giga Bowser.

Well, first of all, I have done nothing BUT think of this for the past week! Thanks so much for the inspiration! Here's a little drabble <3

TW: Physical abuse, Kidnapping, Captive Reader, Implied arranged marriage, Giga Bowser is kinda scary? Mentions of being eaten etc

----

Bowser's thunderous footsteps come grinding to a halt of their own accord, stilling the colossal Koopa in his tracks at the opposite end of the docks, his eyes bulging open at the sight that looms out of the mist to greet him.

He's found you, his little runaway, for which he's rendered breathless with palpable relief.

But to his mounting dismay, there's another human with you.

A stranger...

A man.

And not only is this man encroaching well into your personal space, but his hands have captured your wrists as well, keeping you anchored in place with his chest shoved firmly against yours.

The pair of you are so wrapped up in the presence of the other, that neither one of you notices the King lurking nearby.

For a single beat, Bowser almost can't tear his wild-eyed stare away from the fingertips squeezing into your supple skin.

But then, he hears your voice, laden with thick and palpable alarm that's badly disguised by the composure you're attempting to maintain.

“Falkner, please,” you're shakily telling the other human, “Whatever agreement you may have had with my father is null and void now that he's dead!”

“Bullshit!” the stranger is quick to contend, giving you a rough jostle that throws fuel on the fire already raging in Bowser's gut, “Your old man promised you to me! I didn't sail halfway around the world just to be told no!”

Neither of you register the Koopa, not even when he lowers his horned head and takes a heavy, dangerous step towards you, his hackles starting to rise just like his gorge.

Just who the Hell does this idiot think he is to speak to you so crassly?!

Another step sends the pebbles near his feet skittering across the ground.

Your jaw is set, but you continue to tug at your ensnared wrists as you retort, “Promises made in a drunken stupor are hardly binding agreements!”

The man's face is swiftly changing from sallow and pallid to a vivid crimson and he parts his lips to shout, “You are mine by rights! You're coming with me!”

“Let me GO!” At last, perhaps inevitably, your voice cracks.

Bowser's jaw aches with how tightly his fangs are wedged together.

He can feel a fireball trying to crawl its way up his throat, leaving a sting that burns like venom along the walls of his trachea, but he gulps it down. No matter how great and terrible his rage might grow, he'd be remiss to let an attack loose with you so close to the firing line.

But there's something else building in his chest. Something swollen and ugly that rumbles like a slumbering giant just underneath his scales when he sees the moisture glistening on your dainty eyelashes.

Bowser hasn't ever seen you cry. Not even when he informed you that you'd be a permanent guest at his castle. Not even when it dawned on you that you could never go back to your old home across the seas. Not even when you fell from your window during an escape attempt and sprained your ankle, and the pain was great enough that you actually clung to him as he lifted you gently into his arms, your lips stuffed together to refrain from whimpering.

So to see you this close to tears now instills an outrage in him that differs from his usual temper. This is tumultuous. Primal, even.

He wants you to notice him now, to glance over and see that he's here for you, that you'll be all right because Bowser would never let anything bad happen to you.

Heart aflame, his pace quickens to a lurching gallop.

With a wrench, you manage to free one of your hands from Falkner's grip and use it to pry his fingers from your remaining wrist. “I said, GET! OFF!”

The anger in Bowser's chest dims only slightly to make room for a burst of pride.

But that momentary delight is stamped out as swiftly as it comes.

In an awful, jarring instant, the man - evidently fed up with your continued resistance – reels his hand back into the air behind his head, fingers pressed together, open-palmed...

Bowser can see the disaster unfurling right in front of him, but his shame is in knowing that he was too slow to stop it from happening.

The hand hurtles forwards...

A harrowing 'CRACK' ruptures the air as calloused skin meets the vulnerable flesh of your cheek.

Your head is flung sideways and you cry out, eyes wide with shock, and it's only then that your startled gaze land upon your audience. Cheek humming, the tears finally spill over the walls of your eyelids, tumbling in ceaseless rivulets down your face.

You choke on a wet sob, unable to drag your gaze away from the Koopa.

You can't summon the will to be pleased for his interference, if anything, you're ashamed to have been caught by your captor in a moment of such vulnerability.

Perhaps it's the tears distorting your vision, or perhaps the slap had knocked something loose in your brain, but through blurred vision, you think you can see a change come over Bowser, and if you didn't know any better, you'd almost swear that he was growing.

A hiss from your side catches your attention, but you don't turn to look at Falkner, though you can see him flapping his hand about to rid it of the lingering sting. “Damn,” he sucks a breath through his teeth, “Now look what you made me do... If you hadn't been so difficult, I wouldn't've had to do-” He finally notices the ground trembling beneath his leather boots. "-that...?"

Whatever had been hiding under the surface of Bowser's scales is howling out with rage, stirred from its slumber by the vicious and unprovoked attack on his friend.

Muscles ripple and bulge as they expand, bones snap, twisting out of shape. The Koopa King's gums burn as his fangs grow longer, sharper, squeaking against one another whilst his rapidly changing jaw struggles to keep up with their rate of growth.

It's agony, this transformation, but it can't be helped.

His friend has been struck. Hurt. And everything in him, every last instinct and sinew and atom, is bellowing out at him that he needs to protect you.

He would swallow this agony over and over again if it keeps you from experiencing pain.

He may be monstrous in size and temperament, but he isn't a monster.

He can't be...

Anger feeds into his expanding body, giving itself more space to spread like a wildfire, or perhaps more like a wave of churning acid that washes through his veins and takes the place of his blood.

It must... Because his body feels as if it's corroding.

“What the HELL is that?!”

Falkner's shriek adequately echoes your own inner monologue.

And you thought Bowser was terrifying before.

The tyrant must be absolutely livid with you for managing to escape from your room. If only you hadn't run into Sir Falkner on the docks. You went looking for a rescue party, but the man who did come to 'rescue' you might be even worse than King Bowser. At least Bowser, for all his uninvited clinginess, had never raised a hand against you.

Now though, locked in his blood-red stare, you start to wonder if you've pushed your luck just a step too far.

Pounding footsteps take off behind you, slapping against the cobblestone as Falkner simply turns tail and runs, leaving you frozen in place with your limbs as rigid as petrified wood, like your body knows instinctively that to turn your back and run from something with teeth that sharp is a very bad idea.

Inevitably, Bowser's head shoots up almost the moment Falkner starts to flee, and you're helpless but to watch on in horror as a gigantic paw surges over your head and snatches your would-be suitor right off the ground, hoisting the man up into the air.

Falker's resulting scream chills you down to the marrow in your bones, so wracked with terror and urgency that it sets your teeth on edge.

The oversized Koopa draws the thrashing human up to his maw and peels back his thick, rubbery lips, giving Falkner an uninterrupted view of his fate.

A constant growl spills between gleaming fangs, each one about the length of your own forearm, and the sound itself is loud enough that it could be mistaken for an unending grumble of far-off thunder, easily drowning out the man's screams.

It's gruesome to see. Your imagination runs wild with awful possibilities that you pray don't come to pass. Trembling in your boots, you lower your gaze to stare unblinkingly at the ground instead whilst short, sharp breaths fall out of your lungs, coming fast enough to leave you feeling light-headed.

Slowly, carefully, you take a single step back.

This might be your only chance to escape.

But then, like a damning acknowledgement of your cowardice, Falkner screams your name.

“Y/N!” he screeches, his back arched against the pain of being crushed in Bowser's grip, “HELP ME! PLEASE!”

'...You don't have to help him,' logic whispers into your ear, set on self-preservation, 'Nobody but his mother would miss him. He's a bad person, and you're not a hero.'

No. You're not a hero. And it certainly wouldn't be heroic to save a man like Falkner, who does more harm than good most days.

Bowser's immense jaws part in reaction to the human's screams, and his growl explodes into a deafening roar that blasts the man's hair back and forces him to pinch his eyes firmly shut.

Similarly, you raise your hands and slap them over your ears, teeth grit until the sound starts to fade. You can only imagine what the volume had done to Falkner's eardrums.

Even through the cushioning of your palms, you still hear him crying out once more, “DO SOMETHING!”

… Your head twists slowly towards a little wooden boat that bobs invitingly on the nearby docks. You're strong enough to work the oars, you could very easily jump into it, raise the little, white sail and let the wind carry you far out to sea, away from this place.

Away from Bowser.

This could be your only shot of escaping imprisonment and going home.

“I beg of you!”

… You could...

“Y/N!”

… Oh, damn it all.

Your eyes snap back up to Falkner and you immediately start to feel the burning of your cheek, as if to remind you of what he did.

But already, your scruples are disintegrating. A direct cry for help is a tough thing to ignore, after all.

On shaking knees, you reclaim the step you'd made in retreat and instead move towards Bowser, tipping your head back and peeling your tongue from the roof of your bone-dry mouth. “B-!” You falter on the first syllable and have to swallow roughly before trying again. “Bowser!”

Almost as soon as it had begun, the thunderous roar falls silent, echoing off in the distance until it's lost over the crashing waves.

Falkner continues to gasp and whimper inside the colossal fist, but those haunting, blood-red eyes turn gradually in your direction, pinning you once again in their subtle glow.

Your legs threaten to buckle as you realise he's now focusing solely on you.

You've no idea if he can be reasoned with in this state, but you know you can't do much else but try. “Release him, Bowser!” you yelp without an ounce of any real authority, “I'm the one who ran from you! Not him! Put him down!”

The docks are still and disarmingly placid for a time, disturbed only by the sounds of Falkner struggling to free himself, and the breaths that enter and leave a set of gargantuan lungs.

The hulking Koopa continues to glower down at you, his nostrils flared wide to reveal a red-hot glow from within, like a burning core.

Just as you begin to fear that your plea will go unheeded, Bowser hisses through his fangs, and then, without much ceremony, he simply opens his fist and Falkner goes tumbling out of it, landing awkwardly on his ankle and eliciting a yelp of pain. Still, he wastes no time in whirling over onto his backside and kicking madly to push himself out from under the behemoth's shadow.

You follow his retreat from the corner of an eye, but you don't break Bowser's stare.

You daren't, even as he takes a lumbering step in your direction. The ground underneath your shudders with the impact, as though the island itself is afraid of his wrath.

Another step covers much of the distance between you, and the realisation that he's coming your way snaps you out of your trance. You've given Falkner a chance to escape. Now, you'll be taking yours.

Skirts flying, you whip yourself about and take off in a dead sprint. Behind you, the air quivers as Bowser releases an urgent chuff, the heat from his breath washing disconcertingly over the back of your neck and spurring you to kick up your heels.

However, you barely make it ten paces before a colossal palm suddenly descends from the sky and crashes into the ground just ahead of you. You let out a yelp and hit the brakes, but you've already come too close to his hand, and so, like a venus fly trap closes around a hapless insect, Bowser's fingers spring to action, sweeping you up off your feet and pinning you against the soft, warm leather of his palm.

“No, no, no!” you bleat, scrabbling desperately at thick scales as the ground falls away below you and you find yourself lifted up to Bowser's big, yellow muzzle.

All you can do is wait for the crunch. For the pain. To hear your bones grind together when he eventually clenches his fist.

You're ashamed to cry in front of him, but you're too afraid to stop. Nausea churns your stomach and you screw up your face in anticipation, eyes clamped tightly closed.

The agony of waiting is almost too much for you to bear.

You're too wrapped up in your fear to notice that Bowser has yet to even slightly tighten his grasp. If anything, his hold is shockingly gentle. The pad of an immense thumb is pressed against your belly, exerting just enough pressure to keep you safely tucked in the hollow of his palm.

Several, unbearable seconds tick by whilst you quiver and breathe as though you've just run a mile.

You nearly lose your composure, biting down on your tongue to stop yourself from demanding that he just get your punishment over with.

And then, you feel it.

A gentle pressure, so light that you'd think a butterfly must have landed on your neck, but when your eyes burst open and you catch sight of a monolithic finger all but filling your field of view, you realise what a fool you were to close your eyes at all.

Bowser, it seems, has raised his unoccupied hand towards you, and the very tip of a single claw has come to rest in the hollow of your throat. You can feel it's ghosting presence as you swallow thickly and your larynx presses a little more solidly against it for all of a second.

You're too stunned to make a move.

With a gentleness that doesn't at all befit his size, Bowser slowly lifts his claw, and in doing so, your head is pushed up, then turned slightly to one side, exposing your cheek.

The cheek that had been viciously struck.

Why is he...?

Pinned under the weight of his scrutiny, you fall utterly motionless, your mouth stuck open as if you're emitting a silent scream.

A lonely tear escapes the confines of your lashes and trickles down to your chin when it dangles precariously for a before it falls, plopping down onto Bowser's fingertip.

The behemoth's muzzle shifts close, and those dark and dangerous eyes narrow to thin slits as he inspects your cheek. You'd almost entirely forgotten about the throbbing ache lancing across your face, and even now, adrenaline is doing wonders at keeping most of the discomfort at bay.

All of a sudden, Bowser's pupils shrink and a thrum of aggression starts up in his chest like the engine of some ancient and powerful machine. Drawing his head away from you, he twists it over his bulging shoulder and aims a vicious snarl in the direction that Falkner had fled.

You can't help but flinch when his fingers twitch around you, but he must have noticed the movement, because not a second later, the growl is cut off and he swings his nose around to peer down at you again, his slitted pupils expanding like ink in water once they land on you.

Your pulse is jackhammering against your skin. Nothing about this is adding up. He seems more agitated about Falkner than about you. But... you're the escaped prisoner...

You don't have much time to ponder over his strange behaviour though. Just as carefully as it had appeared, the Koopa's forefinger slides gradually from beneath your chin and you can finally gulp down a greedy breath of air, realising belatedly that you'd stopped breathing the moment he touched you.

All around you, the behemoth starts to move, pulling you close and tucking you against his chest as he takes step after impossibly lengthy step, turning his immense bulk about to head back across the island to your gloomy, familiar prison.

--------------

You used to wonder if it was simply Bowser's ostentatious taste in décor that made him choose such grand, wide doorways to separate the rooms of his castle. Now however, as the gargantuan Koopa squeezes himself through the entrance to your given chambers, his shell scraping noisily against the wooden doorframes, you realise the design might lend more to practicality than aesthetic, especially if this... transformation happens on a regular basis around here.

God, you hope not...

You've remained stiff as a board in Bowser's unwavering grasp all the way back, fearful of provoking a violent reaction out of him like you had when you tried to struggle out of Falkner's grip.

Shoulders sagging as he releases a massive sigh, the Koopa trundles to a stop at the foot of your bed and at long, long last, he peels you away from his chest. Your ears ring after so much time spent having to listen to a mighty heart thudding rhythmically right next to your head.

Again, with a care that you certainly never would have expected him to possess, Bowser cups you in his palms and lowers you onto the plush sheets, sliding his hands out from underneath you as if he's placing down a fragile, porcelain doll.

As soon as you're out of his grasp, he deflates, heaving a billowing breath and all but dropping onto all fours in front of you. Alarmed, you scramble backwards until your spine hits the bed's headboard, blurting out a yelp when Bowser's chin drops down to thwack on the sheets in front of you. The weight of his skull alone causes the bed to buckle and groan in protest, but to your astonishment, it somehow manages to support him as he gets himself settled, peering down the length of his snout and ensnaring you in that ruby-red gaze once more.

Your fingers flex into the sheets around you, bunching them up and wrinkling the fine cotton.

'Now what's he doing?'

His eyes are glued to your cheek again, his intense stare broken by the occasional, languid blink.

You're not expecting it when he suddenly moves.

He only extends his neck a little to bring his head closer to you, but he's so massive, the motion it far more jarring from your perspective. With a shriek, you slam your eyes shut and instinctively throw up your hands, pressing them hard against the soft muzzle, as if they alone are enough to keep him from advancing on you any further. To your immense shock however, the moment your fingers meet the warm surface of his nose, Bowser falls still.

You risk prying open an eyelid to peep up at him.

Judging by the impossibly wide smile that now stretches across his face, he's apparently delighted by this new development.

This is the first time you've touched his face.

Your palm is almost lost to a vast expanse of yellow skin, sitting right on the ridge of his nose between his flaring nostrils.

The Koopa's own gaze is heavy-lidded, each pupil angled to keep you within his sights whilst a pleased hum travels through his throat and causes the bed to quake underneath you.

His fangs remain safely tucked behind his lips, and as the seconds tick by without your hand getting snapped off, the tension in your fingers gradually begins to dissipate.

With your heartbeat receding as well, you allow yourself to lightly stroke just the tips of your fingers down his snout until they pause on the cusp of his upper lip, drawing a reverent shudder from the almighty juggernaut.

Pressing your teeth together, you inhale slowly through your nose, and murmur, “...Bowser?”

It's as if you've just broken him from some kind of trance.

The King's face suddenly twists up and he emits a throaty groan, like he's in pain.

Quick as a flash, you tear your hand from his muzzle and press yourself back as far away as you can when he peels his chin from the bed and brings both of his gargantuan paws up to clutch at his head, staggering to his feet.

“Bowser!” you cry again, this time in alarm, “What's happening!?”

A disconcerting notion occurs to you - that he could be on the verge of going bezerk - and you hurriedly throw back the covers with a view to scramble off the bed and make a break for the doors. But as soon as you move, the Koopa's eyes spring open again and zero in on you, trapping you in a stare so full of frantic desperation that you stop at once, though more from confusion than fear.

And so, you're left to do nothing but watch as the jagged behemoth undergoes another, painful transformation.

The heavy shell on his back grows smaller, losing the serrated quality of its spikes. His tail shortens, his jutting fangs soften around their edges. The sweeping horns on his head recede back inside his rapidly shrinking skull until only their tips remain poking out from between his mess of a mane.

You almost choke on a gushing sigh of relief when at last, the King is back to his regular, brutish self, knelt on the ground at the foot of your bed - though it strikes you quite abruptly that you shouldn't be feeling reassured by Bowser's presence, no matter which form he takes.

Despite your misgivings, you still find yourself croaking out, “A-are you okay?”

Arduously, he braces a palm on the end of the bed and uses it to push himself up onto his feet again, eventually dragging his eyes over to you. He gives you a brief, searching glance, focusing for an uncomfortable minute on your face, then, without a word, the Koopa spins around and staggers purposefully towards the adjoining bathroom, disappearing through the door.

Plagued by uncertainty, you allow your fists to tentatively unclench around the bedsheets, lowering them into your lap as the squeak of a tap filters out from beyond the ensuite door, followed by the unmistakable rush of running water.

Another squeak... and a few moments later, the Koopa comes stomping back into the room, this time with a wet flannel clutched inside his meaty paw.

“You should've let me pulverise 'im,” he grumbles, stalking around the bed until he comes to the side you're sitting on.

Gobsmacked, you let your mouth fall open, close it, then open it once more to ask, “I... I beg your pardon?”

“That GUY!” he snaps, “You shouldn't'a stopped me. He deserved the worst!”

You blink stupidly, lifting your eyebrows in tandem until they sit high on your forehead. “I'm sorry.. Are we... not going to talk about what just happened to you!?”

“What's there to talk about?” he grunts, flicking his tail up onto the bed before sinking his hefty backside down after it, fidgeting with the sodden flannel between his claws, “You got hurt. I got mad.”

“You got mad!?” Scoffing at the absurd understatement, you continue, “Bowser - you turned into a gigantic, terrifying monster who looked like he was three seconds away from chewing me up and spitting me back out! All because somebody slapped me!?”

You expect an uproarious retort, which would definitely be in keeping with your usual repartee with him, so it comes as a shock when Bowser glares heatedly at you for a few moments, then merely turns his nose away from you, hiding his expression.

It's... notably uncharacteristic of the hot-tempered Koopa. So much so that it prompts you to tilt your head and call, “Bowser?”

You can't see his face beyond the shell that covers his back, but motion on the covers draws your gaze down to see his tail. Slowly, the appendage curls inwards, tucking itself up against his thigh. Dejected.

“You didn't deserve what he did...”

You look up at Bowser again, blinking owlishly to find his arm reaching back towards you, though the King keeps his face stubbornly pointed in the opposite direction. The little, white flannel is draped across his proffered palm.

Keeping a dubious eye on the Koopa, you hesitantly stretch your hand out to his, pinching the fabric between your thumb and forefinger and pausing for a second to marvel over how cold it is. Drawing it into your grasp, you waste no time in bringing it up to your face and gently pressing the cool material against your cheek, unable to keep back the tiny smile that grows on your face with that slight modicum of relief.

You recognise his gesture is meant to be a peace offering, and you are grateful for the flannel... But you're also still bitter.

“So,” you hum pensively, eyeing his robust arm as it drops down to rest on the bed beside him, “I didn't deserve that. But I do deserve to be locked up and held prisoner in your castle?”

“I keep you safe.” His head twitches in your direction with a cursory show of teeth that are hardly very frightening anymore, not now that you've seen what they can become, “I keep you fed and warm and happy. I'd never hurt you.”

“No. You keep me fed and warm, and that's it,” you tell him sharply, “I don't feel safe here. And I am far from happy.”

You're more than aware that you're antagonising him, but you think you're damn well within your rights to do so. It isn't enough that he keeps you locked up in this castle and forbids you your freedom, but now he expects you to act as if you're happy about it too?

Another, disgruntled noise leaves him as he lurches off the bed, landing on his feet with a thud.

"Where are you going?" you demand.

"I'm-!" Bowser heaves a sigh, running a clawed hand through his thick, fiery mane. “I'm goin' to get you a proper ice-pack...” Trailing off, the King tromps heavily across your room, making his agitation known with every, deliberate step until he reaches the door.

Your teeth tug at a piece of loose skin on your lower lip. “... Bowser.”

He pauses, his hulking frame suddenly looking so small and vulnerable in the gargantuan doorway, with one of his hands sitting poised upon the handle.

Even from the bed, you can see the flash of his crimson iris swivelling in your direction.

You try to regard him passively, but the ice in your gaze is starting to melt fraction by fraction, and you don't know whether he can see it or not. “... Thanks,” you call gently anyway, lifting your shoulder into a shrug, “For... you know, for scaring Falkner off.”

You watch his eyelid widen, as if he's surprised to hear a word of thanks, from you of all people.

There's even the minutest quiver in his lip as it tries to tug itself up into the ghost of a smile. But then, he gives his head a rough shake, and the smile is gone.

“Just protectin' what's mine,” he rumbles, pushing the door open and slipping through the gap. The door closes again a second later, and your ears catch the sound of a heavy key sliding into the lock and turning, sending the tumblers clunking home.

… What's his...

Right.

A hollow space expands between your ribs, the familiar hole that disappointment often leaves behind.

Drawing your knees up against your chest, you wrap an arm around yourself for comfort, keeping the flannel pressed to your cheek as you wait for him to return with that ice pack.

[belethlegwen]

The Scars We Leave Behind

Written by: @adjacentperception and @belethlegwen

What's left of a hero when everything is taken from him? What's left of a villain with no identity?

What's left of a man who has no choice but to save the symbol of a system he's fighting against?

Within a city constantly besieged by a super-power fueled war between Good vs Evil, a hero is captured by powerful villain and their secret organization and forced to play part in a twisting and enigmatic plan; to tear down the systems in place that keep the League of Heroes in an ultimate seat of power to rival the government itself. But… is the system as good as it projects itself to be? Are the villains and their henchmen really as evil as the media says? Is it truly as simple as tearing it down, or does that simply open up space for a new, worse system to enter?

Is the harm we do when we believe we're helping mitigated merely by our wishes to be better? To create something more? To fix what we believe is broken?

Do we hold blame for creating the evil we think we're fighting against, regardless of our intentions?

This work features descriptions of violence, abuse, neglect, and uses adult language, as well as mentions of nudity and sexual topics.

[geraskierfanficprompts]

Prompt 17

"Jaskier, no! Keep your eyes open!" "I'm- I'm getting so tired, Geralt..." "You can rest soon. Now, talk to me." "G'rlt..." "Talk, damn it!" "..." "Jaskier, please, PLEASE. Stay awake! Fuck- Sing for me. I need you to sing for me, Jask." "...You want to hear me sing?" "Yes, yes, I've never wanted to hear you perform more than now."

If Geralt wasn't currently stitching up Jaskier's profusely bleeding wound, he'd find the time to sob in relief at the sound of fucking Fishmonger's Daughter.

[tinyclownhours]

Human Hermit Crabs

I turned the silly little prompt I sent to @so-very-small into a full fic. Enjoy :)

Summary: Human gets abducted by giant aliens and sold as a novelty pet in an intergalactic souvenir shop, only to be rescued by a rugged space explorer.

Word Count: 5781

Cw: Abduction, dehumanisation (it's nothing too bad, but the MC is seen as a pet/object by the other aliens), mentions of death and humans being sold as pets/objects.

An apex predator. That is what Henry had lived his entire life believing he was. Everyone knew humans were on top of the food chain. Even in situations where they were wildly outmatched in pure strength, it was their intelligence that kept them on top. The only one who could realistically hurt him was his own kind, he had thought. As long as he kept his head down, he could get by without trouble. Oh, how foolish he had been…

He was curled up at the far end of the glass cage, leaning against the cold wall as he breathed in a shallow manner. He was cold, and he was shivering ever so slightly. Every now and again a giant figure would glide past the outside of his cage, browsing all of the curiosities the shop had to offer, him included…

He thought back to that day, the 15th of October. The day when his perception of reality had been utterly shattered. It was a crisp autumn evening and Henry had been strolling around on a walk out by the countryside where he lived. There was rarely anyone out where he walked. Maybe that’s why they chose him…

He still remembered the feeling of being sucked up into the air, the feeling of his stomach dropping while he looked down at the ground becoming smaller and smaller below him until he was swallowed up by the sky. Or at least he thought. The pure terror and panic were still fresh in his mind, as he looked around the gigantic spaceship that he’d been beamed up into. He had seen the giant alien smirk down at him, roughly grabbing his body in his callus fist while he inspected him. Henry felt his stomach turn as he thought back to how the giant poacher had looked over him after putting a metal collar around his throat, calling him a “beautiful specimen” before carrying him off and throwing him into a crowded cage full of other humans, all of them equally confused and terrified. 

He remembered how horrific it had been initially, being sold as some sort of tiny novelty pet in this intergalactic souvenir shop. He was trembling almost if not every waking hour of the day, and would freeze up anytime someone walked past his cage. Rush hour was hell for him… Nowadays he was too exhausted to even lift a finger. Most customers took note of his sickly appearance, being so pale and thin he looked like he was one second away from crumbling into dust. Which he supposed was good, since most of them lost interest in him after a few seconds of inspection. It seemed like all of them knew. All of them knew he didn’t have long. And why buy a pet that you knew wasn't going to make it? He never bought those scrawny and off-colored goldfish at the pet store when he was a child. No one did, why would they? If it wasn’t for the fact that he was dying, he might’ve seen the cosmic irony of him ignoring those goldfish as a child only to feel some sort of comradery towards them now.

He was the last human left in the cage, all of his other fellow captives had either been sold off or passed away due to the horrid living conditions they’d all been exposed to for the last month. Unfortunately for Henry, he had been a stubborn one, as the owner of the shop commented quite frequently. It was clear he was just waiting for Henry to disappear so that he could order a fresh batch of captives to abuse with horrible housing.

The cage was small and made entirely of glass which stripped away any privacy any of them could’ve gotten. There wasn’t any padding or places to sleep comfortably. Besides, even if they did have someplace to sleep, the clunky metal collars made it a little hard to get comfortable. They had been provided with some sort of strange wood shavings on the cage floor, which quite possibly couldn’t have been any more itchy and uncomfortable. Any food they were provided with seemed deprived of any hint of nutrients and only provided Henry with temporary relief by filling his stomach with something to quell the searing pain of hunger. Lastly, they were put through so much distress, with the top of their cage being completely open for all of the shop's open hours, meaning that anyone could pick them up and manhandle them as they pleased in order to figure out if they liked the tiny human or not.

In the beginning, Henry had suffered quite a lot of stress at the (literal) hands of the shop's customers. A lot of them had been kids, or so he assumed, considering they were smaller and much less delicate with how they handled the poor humans. Henry had witnessed one too many of his fellow merchandise be dropped from tens of feet up in the air by those clumsy monsters. Some were quote-on-quote fine, getting lucky and only breaking a few bones. Others died upon impact. Although, Henry was starting to wonder which ones were actually the lucky ones…

Other times there were the odd tourists who walked in and were fascinated by the cage of humans. Most of them were quite handsy, pulling and playing with each one of their limbs as if they were just dolls. Of course, tourists are just what Henry called them. They were all bulky giants with what seemed to be purple scales and multiple eyes spread across their entire body. They were all just loud and quite frankly, too curious for his liking. It reminded him of the horror stories he’d read online by people recalling their experiences with obnoxious tourists… But he supposes that it was through them that he learned what the metal collars were for. There was a sign taped onto the side of the cage that read “Translator included!”, which many of them would read aloud and then condescendingly speak with them and try to get them to repeat words to them. Henry wasn’t quite sure why they were given translators. He wasn’t complaining of course, this whole ordeal would have been a thousand times worse if he hadn’t gotten a helpful (if a bit rude) explanation from the store owner as to what was going on when he first came into the store. However, he didn’t understand the appeal of a pet that could speak. Wouldn’t it feel weird to have a pet that could share its honest opinions with its owner? Surely they couldn’t think they enjoyed being here and would act like small puppy dogs once they brought them home? Henry wasn’t sure considering the way so many of them spoke to their purchased goods while leaving the store, all while ignoring their screaming and crying with soft coos and laughter. Maybe they were all sadists and didn’t care. It sure seemed like they didn’t.

His least favorite was the obnoxious teenagers that would come in, pick up and touch every single one of them, taking photos, tapping the glass, and being generally insufferable. A week or so ago a group of them came in and tried to get Henry’s attention. When he didn’t react to whatever they were doing, one of them grabbed the edges of the cage and started shaking it. 

But luckily, he didn’t have to deal with that now that he barely had any energy to move. Now that he was weak and unresponsive, he wasn’t entertaining anymore. Safe to say, Henry knew that they knew that he didn’t have much time left. On particularly desperate days he considered begging one of them to take him with them. He could try to perform his role as a souvenir if it meant getting out of there and maybe getting a shot at living life. But how good of a life was he really going to live if this was the standard?

Henry was pulled out of his thoughts as the shop owner walked by. He looked down at him with a scowl, eyebrows knit together as he picked up the full food bowl inside of the cage. He sighed in annoyance and walked away with it, presumably going to throw away the old pellets and replace them with new ones. Not that it mattered in Henry’s eyes. They were always dry and disgusting, and he wasn’t eating any longer.

He looked around the store, since his cage was placed at the very back he had a comfortable view of the entire thing. Despite being only one room, it was huge from his perspective, larger than a big football arena. Today seemed slower than usual. There were barely any customers. Three to be exact. A couple looking at some novelty junk, and a man at the end of the store. Was it a man? Henry wasn’t quite sure about alien biology, especially considering none of them looked to be the same species. Come to think of it, he doesn’t think he’s ever seen that type of alien before. He kept a small list in his head to pass the time, and there were a couple of regularly reoccurring species that came through, some of the less common ones, and then there were wildcards like the man in the back.

His skin was dark, and he had large pointed ears. His eyes were sharp and yellow, and unlike the store owner and most of the regular aliens, his eyes sat at the front of his face, rather than the sides, just like Henry himself. It’s funny. He almost looked a little human if it weren’t for some of his more alien-esque features. From where Henry was sitting, he actually didn’t look half bad for a horrifying gigantic alien. His eyes seemed so cold and hyper-focused… And that’s when Henry realized, much to his horror, that the giant had been eyeing him, staring at him intensely. And Henry had been staring back.

He quickly averted his gaze, feeling his heart skip a beat as a small dose of adrenaline rushed through his veins for the first time in what felt like forever. That was… Weird. Why did he react like that? He didn’t think he had the energy to fear these creatures any longer. But something about him was making Henry nervous. Really nervous. Maybe it was the aliens' new and darker appearance. Maybe it was the way he seemed taller than most of the other aliens he had encountered. Maybe it was that cold stare… Or maybe it was the fact that forward-facing eyes only belonged to predators. Henry didn’t know. But something about him didn’t feel right. He turned to glance back at him only to bite his tongue and let out a muffled yelp as the alien now towered over his cage. Somehow, in the span of a couple of seconds, he had walked from the back of the store all the way to the cage in the front. 

His eyes seemed to drill into Henry as he looked and inspected him. Henry had an even better look at his face from this angle. He could see that the alien looked more reptile-like than most, having two small slotted holes where his nose should be and his pupils were narrow slits rather than round balls like humans had. Henry looked up at him with his tired eyes. Usually, he would look away and be unresponsive to disinterest whatever customer had their eyes on him, but for whatever reason, he couldn’t tear his eyes away from the alien. 

He must’ve looked so pathetic. Small, and exhausted. Having to lean up against a corner to keep himself up. He hadn’t looked in the mirror in quite a while but he could only imagine how messy his hair must’ve been, how heavy the eyebags under his eyes must’ve gotten, and he didn’t even want to think about how pale and delicate he must’ve looked with how little he had been eating. For whatever reason, Henry felt ashamed. Like he was falling short under the judging eyes staring down at him.

Suddenly, Henry caught the slightest twitch of one of the aliens' long ears. He could see his eyes widen slightly for just a second, before he quickly walked off to a nearby shelf, looking at the different merchandise. It was only then that Henry picked up on the footsteps approaching his cage. He could see the store owner walking out with a new bowl of kibble and a basket of cleaning supplies. It was time for him to clean the cage. Henry prepared himself mentally as the store owner reached into the cage and pulled him out. The feeling of his leathery hands enveloping his tiny body made his skin crawl. Luckily it didn’t last long since the store owner quickly set him down into a separate open plastic box on the register counter. He then turned around to the cage and began the process of cleaning it. 

Just then, Henry saw the couple leave the shop and the reptilian man turned back around and faced him. He looked back to the shop owner, who had just emptied all the wood shavings and was scrubbing the cage clean, before looking back at Henry. After a few seconds, he swiftly approached the plastic container. It was truly impressive to see just how swift and soundless he was when he walked. Henry looked up at him with uncertainty and a small frown, and he swore he could see the man’s eyes soften just a little bit. He was lying on his side, too weak and shaky to try and crawl away from the descending hand that soon covered his entire vision. His breath hitched slightly when he felt the surprisingly soft fingers gingerly wrap around his sides before pulling him up and out of the plastic container. 

He didn’t know if this alien was extremely confident in his ability to go unnoticed or if he was just stupid, stealing a human mere feet away from the store owner. He debated making any sort of noise, but at this point, he honestly couldn’t be bothered by what would happen to him. He could die at the hands of a mysterious stranger or in a glass pet cage… One of those felt at least more dignified and less pathetic, and it also came with the possibility of not dying, depending on this alien’s intentions.

He felt the warmth of the man’s hand envelop him, between that and the soft padded insides of the jacket pocket he was placed into, this was the most comfort he’d been provided with for weeks. He could feel the giant shift around, probably walking to exit the store. He was afforded a small window to the outside world through the pocket opening, and could see some of the other shitty products that lined the store walls as they walked out. However, his sight was robbed of him as the alien's hand once again blocked his view. Henry tensed up as it got closer, only to feel it gently cover him. At first, he was confused until he heard that voice he had despised for weeks.

“Have a great day, we hope to see you again soon!” It was so loud and near. They were walking past the store owner. Henry tensed up as he realized this, and the giant could probably tell since he started to stroke his back with his thumb oh so gently. Henry couldn’t help but melt into the touch. By all means, he should be terrified. He had just been kidnapped… again. But is it really kidnapping if you get kidnapped away from a kidnapper??? Or would that be more of a rescue? Henry supposed it all had to do with the giant's intentions. He could be planning to torture and kill him for all he knew. But right now in this moment, he was handling him like he was the most delicate thing in the world, and that tenderness was something Henry needed desperately after three whole weeks of rough manhandling.

“Have a good day to you as well.” The giant spoke, Henry felt his breath hitch again as his heart skipped a beat. His voice was deep and velvety, he swore he could almost feel the base all the way down from his pocket. He felt the alien speed up a little once they were out of the store. He had stopped stroking Henry’s back and was now speed-walking somewhere. After a short while he sped up further, breaking into a jog. Henry let out a small yelp as the hand now enveloped him, still careful but holding him in place. It wasn’t before long that he could hear the sound of a mechanical whirring followed by air pressure and steam release, most likely a spaceship door opening. Henry’s suspicions were confirmed when he felt them walk upwards, probably on a ramp. He could see some hints of LED lights peeking through the gaps in the pocket opening and soon enough he was pulled out. 

Henry was set down in what appears to be the ship cup holder. The alien was using both hands to tap on buttons and pull levers that Henry could not begin to understand. Soon enough, the ship engine roared, and with the slow and precise pull on what appeared to be the startup leaver, the ship started taking off. Henry let out a small noise of displeasure when the alien suddenly covered the cup holder with his palm. However, Henry was thankful for it when only a mere second later, after pressing a button, the ship blasted off as if instantly and Henry’s body jerked backward. He probably would have fallen out of the cup had he not been covered. 

The ship soon smoothed out into an unnoticeable yet fast speed. The alien slowly uncovered said cup holder and placed his hand on the wheel. Henry looked up at the giant and fiddled with his fingers. They were alone now… What should he do? Should he say hi? Why was this so awkward all of a sudden?!

The air was tense as none of them seemed willing to make the first move… The reality of what had just happened was starting to settle into Henry. Had he just left the safety of the store for some stranger? Dread started to seep into his stomach as he wondered what this giant was possibly planning to do with him. 

Said Giant soon pressed another button on the spaceship panel before turning to look at Henry. He could probably see just how scared Henry was, considering his eyes once again softened just a little too much.

“Hey…” He spoke, and it shook Henry to his core. Just then, sitting curled up in the cup holder, having this gigantic alien looming over him after having taken him so effortlessly, Henry felt truly small. Almost insignificant. As if nothing he could say, do, or think was worth anything. He remembered when he thought he was on top of it all, that there wasn’t any predator that could harm him as long as he remained smart, only to find out that he was deemed as so uínsignificant that he was sold as a fucking novelty product… The alien above him could crush and dispose of him within a second, like how he would trap and dispose of mice and vermin that invaded his home back on Earth. He wondered if this was how they felt moments before he handed them over to the local pest control. His heart wept for them, for now, he knew just how it felt to be small.

He was pulled out of his thoughts as the giant slowly reached out and started stroking his arm with the back of his finger. Henry looked into his eyes only to see none of the previous sharpness, but rather nothing than affection and softness. “You’re okay… It’s okay. You’re safe now. I’m not gonna hurt you, alright?” 

…

Looking down at the tiny human sitting in his cup holder, it was evident that he was terrified. The poor thing was shaking, and his eyes were wide as pinpricks. He hadn’t done this in quite some time, not since he was a teenager. And even though it was a little messed up, seeing the shivering tiny almost brought Kazurix some sort of nostalgia. Most if not all of them reacted this way initially. And in the less extreme cases, Kazurix thought their little shaking forms were quite cute. 

He continued to stroke to the little guys arm as gently as he could. The human was curled up, but it was quite clear he didn't have the strength to curl up completely. Just how malnourished was he? It was evident from his sickly appearance that he, like most humans, hadn’t been taken care of very well. His skin was pale, eyes tired, and his blonde hair was tangled and matted. As soon as he’d calmed the human down, he’d get something to eat. They’d have to start slow, with some liquid food to not overwhelm his stomach, but after that, they’d gradually be able to make their way into actual food. It’s a good thing Kazurix always kept liquid food on him. As much as he told himself he’d stop doing this, he always kept some emergency rescue supplies.

He looked down at the trembling human. He didn’t seem to be rejecting the physical touch. That was a good sign. But he wasn’t responding either. The alien took a deep breath and tried something a little more direct.

”What’s your name?” He asked, prompting the little human to speak. He had to show that he wasn’t a threat to him. He could see his eyebrows knit together as he processed the question. He seemed hesitant for a few seconds, but Kazurix remained patient.

“…H-Henry…” The tiny squeaked out. Kazurix's heart almost melted. He had forgotten just how attached he got to these guys. He smiled softly, being careful not to show his teeth.

“It’s nice to meet you, Henry.” He spoke, continuing to stroke Henry’s arm. “My name is Kazurix. But you can call me Kazu if the full name is too hard to pronounce.” The way he said his full name wasn’t even really how you said it, he had to simplify the phonemes a lot since most humans couldn’t pronounce it. Henry nodded at him. Every movement he made seemed to take so much effort on his part. 

“Do you want something to eat? I have some nutrient paste that should give you some energy back without being too much for your stomach to handle.” He reassured him, standing up from his seat. His ear twitched as he picked up on the small gasp that had escaped the human once he stood up. He crouched down in front of the cup holder to be a little more on the human’s level, while still keeping a little bit of a distance from him to give him some space.

“I… I-I…” The human, Henry, started before resorting to a simple nod. Kazurix nodded back at him.

“Alright. I’m going to pick you up now. I’ll be careful.” He warned before snaking his hands underneath and behind the human. He gingerly scooped the tiny one up into his palms. He was lying there, looking up at Kazurix with those big eyes. At least they weren’t as wide as before. Now they were back to those tired, sad doe eyes that had single-handedly convinced Kazurix to take the human with him. He walked over to the small kitchen space on the ship and put Henry on the counter. He propped him up against the wall, ensuring he wouldn’t fall to either side. Then he opened the cooling box and searched around for the nutrient paste. He wasn’t sure where it was since he hadn’t had to use it in so long. It was a good thing they lasted so long…

Finally, he found the tube. He pulled it out. It was supposed to taste sweet. He hoped it did. Kazurix squeezed out a small dollop of the paste onto one of the small capsules left over from a bottle he’d thrown away, creating a small makeshift plate for the human so he didn’t have to be hand-fed. He watched as Henry cautiously inspected the food before looking up at him.

“I don’t have anything you could use as a spoon.” The human's eyes widened only a little before he shook his head.

“O-Oh! N-No, it’s okay! I- Uhm-“ He took a shaky breath before reaching his shaky hand up. “I wasn’t expecting any utensils… I wasn’t even expecting any food at all.” Once he was handed the capsule he looked away. “Thank you…” Kazurix smiled.

“You’re welcome.” He was once again reminded of why he did this so much. Most of them took a while to warm up to him, but once they did they were so sweet. He had nursed his fair share of humans back to health. Some of them were incredibly grateful, and some of them were reluctantly so. There were of course the poor humans who were so traumatized that they sadly never let their guard down around him, even after he proved himself as a non-threat. But he nonetheless cared for each and every one of them… Although, he was surprised as to how willing Henry had seemed to be. Usually, they were a lot more hesitant and afraid in the beginning, and while he was both of those things, Henry still thanked Kazurix politely and didn’t put up a fight as he was picked up… He knew there was something about him the second he walked into that store.

He hadn’t expected to rescue a human today, but fate was a funny thing. He had flown his sister and her girlfriend to the intergalactic travel center since the two of them were going on a little trip together. He knew he would’ve run into one of those tourist shops eventually. It was inevitable at such a crossroads of different alien cultures and species, but his heart still dropped when he saw one. He figured they must’ve shut down the human souvenir section, right? The last time he rescued one of them was years ago, it had to have become outdated at this point, right? But alas, walking into the shop he was immediately greeted by a glass cage with a tiny human inside of it. His heart broke for the poor guy, leaned up into a corner of the cage and breathing shallowly. Two people were looking down at him and discussing him, so he took that time to slink past them and into the back of the store. It wasn’t too far away from the cage since the store was quite small and narrow. That was bad.

He preferred to do rescues in larger stores, especially ones where the human section was tucked away between shelves and not out in the open. As the two left to look at some cheap garbage in the store, Kazurix wondered if he even could rescue this tiny. The store owner walked out to grab the bowl of food from the cage. It was full, meaning the human hadn’t eaten. Not that it wasn’t obvious given how scrawny he was… 

Just as he was about to call it quits and leave, the human made eye contact with him. Kazurix’s species were known for their enhanced senses - There was a reason that despite having been found out multiple times while in the middle of a rescue, Kazurix had never been caught. Some would even go as far as to say he was an apex predator of sorts, but Kazurix didn’t agree. He wouldn’t be so foolish as to assume there weren't bigger fish out there… However, his enhanced eyesight helped him see all the details of the tinies face even from so far away. He looked tired, exhausted even, and he was indeed looking at Kazurix. His eyes were sad and round, he wondered how much life had previously been filled within them, only to be stripped away by forces out of his control.

Just then, those eyes widened and the tiny looked away. That was it. Kazurix didn’t care if he got in trouble, or if this was as far away from the ideal rescue circumstances as possible, or if the tiny seemed to be one day away from death. He was going to save him… He was going to give him at least one last day of comfort.

Walking up to the cage, Kazurix could take in even more details of the pocket-sized man. He was dressed in a loose T-shirt and shorts. Probably unisized ones that the shop provided all the humans with. He was wearing a cheaper model of the universal translator collar. That was unusual for a shop this small, but convenient for Kazurix since he didn’t have to worry about how to non-verbally explain what was going on to the human once they were out of there. Then, the human looked back only to yelp at the sudden appearance of Kazurix. Sometimes he could forget how light on his feet he was despite his size. It had always come so naturally to him, but apparently, some aliens thought it was freaky. He had to stop himself from laughing when he heard the small sound that escaped the human. He kept examining him, about to reach in and take him when he heard the footsteps of the owner. He had to wait for another opening. 

He quickly walked to a nearby shelf, pretending to look at whatever junk they were selling. He could hear slight shuffling behind him, and once he heard the scooping of wooden chips he turned to the shop owner. He was cleaning out the cage… Looking around, he quickly found the human on the register counter. He crept over to him, being kept in a small plastic box. His heart broke when he saw just how powerless the little one was, lying on his side with a frown. Without hesitation, Kazurix reached into the box and picked the human up. That’s when he felt just how truly small he was. He had forgotten the tender feeling of holding someone smaller than your index finger, of just how utterly helpless they were to anything and anyone bigger than them, which was just about everyone. And that’s why he needed to do this.

The little guy didn’t even put up a fight. He was lying limply in his hand as he gently stuffed him into his open pocket. Walking by the store owner, Kazurix shielded the tiny using his hand. When the store owner spoke up and politely said goodbye to him, he could feel the poor human tense up in his pocket. He started stroking the little one tenderly, hoping to calm him down as he responded to the store owner, and quickly making his way out before he got busted. 

Everything was so unplanned and happened so fast, and looking back at it, it was a miracle that they weren’t caught. Kazurix was snapped back into reality when he heard Henry call out to him.

“Hello? Uhm… K…Karu?” He asked. Kazurix looked back down at him, eyes now focused. He could see how the human seemed to squirm under his gaze. “Could I get some more food?” He seemed almost afraid to ask. Kazurix smiled down at him, squeezing out another dollop on the small makeshift plate.

“Of course… And,” he chuckled slightly, “it’s Kazu.” He smiled, but the human’s face seemed to pale at his correction.

“O-Oh! I-I’m sorry- I didn’t mean-“ Henry scrambled to explain himself. Kazurix simply smirked in amusement. Something about this tinie's nervousness was so charming to him… 

“It’s no big deal.” He stated simply as he went back to stroking Henry’s tiny back with his finger. “Close enough. Don’t be nervous.” He smiled. The tiny paused, looking up at him hesitantly.

“…Why are you doing this?” He asked in a quiet voice, almost a whisper.

“Doing what?”

“Why did you take me? Wh-What are you going to do with me?” Kazurix could see the anxiety building up behind those eyes of his.

“…You looked so weak, and sad. I couldn’t just stand by without doing something.” He said. It was true if only a little simplified. Henry looked away, down at the pale brown paste dollop in front of him.

“…I want to go home.” His voice cracked, and Kazurix’s smile fell in an instant.

“…I know. Earth is… Quite far away from us.” He admitted, unsure if he could even get to earth from where they were right now. Not that he was going to tell Henry that. The human turned his face to the opposite side of Kazurix, but he managed to catch a glimpse of how glossy his eyes had gotten. Poor thing… He wouldn’t blame him if he broke down right now, considering all he went through.

“Hey?” Kazurix said softly. “Let me tell you something.” He moved a little closer. “I’ll get you to Earth… Okay? I promise.” The tiny human turned his head back, and Kazurix could see the small drops of tears that had built up in his eyes.

“You will?” Henry asked. Kazurix got a little closer once more.

“I will…” He reached his hand forward, extending his pinkie finger. “As soon as you feel better, I’ll take you to your home. I promise to protect you and escort you if you’ll have me as your travel companion?” He flashed the human a tender smile. Henry looked away, but this time, Kazurix could see the slight blush that spread to his ears. He couldn’t help but chuckle as the human grabbed his finger and shook it.

“Y-Yeah… That sounds nice.” He picked the paste back up and went back to eating, not before muttering a small and meek: “Thank you…”

And so it was decided. Kazurix was going to help Henry back to earth, a venture that would probably take them months… But he wasn’t about to drop that on Henry right now. He’s had a draining day as is. Although Kazurix was a little ashamed to admit it, he was almost a little happy that the journey would take a while. He’d be happy to get to know Henry more, and what’s a better way to get to know each other than a couple of months in space? He was sure they could make a couple of stops on the way so Kazurix could show off some fun places to Henry. He wouldn’t exactly be able to see them once he was dropped off on Earth anyway. He wouldn’t let anything happen to him while they were enjoying themselves.

“Of course. It’s my pleasure… Henry.” His name rolled nicely off his tongue. It’s been a hot minute since he’s last pronounced a human name. He would no doubt say it a lot more from now on.

Oh, he could tell this was going to be a fun experience.

[the--short--one]

Find Part 1 and Part 2 here

Part 3! I’m sorry in advance; I’ve been told this one also hurts

Again, I’m sorry if the quality tanked. Can you tell I have a hand fixation?

Just one more part to go :))

[munchkin1156]

Listen. Listen. LISTEN.

Zombie apocalypse with G/T Headcannons!

(Let me have my fun guys, come on-)

. . .

-Borrowers are already incredibly agile and smart, needing to avoid humans daily, but with zombies it's much easier, since they are slower, and less smart than humans! And they probably wouldn't even notice borrowers, they're only after human brains

-Lots of abandoned food and scraps for taking, plus no need to worry about beans! Mostly

-Get caught by a human? Easy! Just pretend to be a zombie! A foolproof plan that definitely won't make you get thrown across the room like a tennis ball!

-Borrower who already lives with humans teaching them how to scavenge and save food

-Group of borrowers fighting off zombies who enter their territory

-Borrowers who leave traps for humans and zombies to get caught in

-Borrower who borrows from a secret underground resistance against the zombies and gets caught trying to trick zombies to come into the humans base so that they can have all the supplies for themselves

-Borrower who gets caught by a human who was pretending to be a zombie to prank their friends the borrower thought it wouldn't care about them since it's a zombie

-Avian borrower who taunts the zombies so that they don't chase the humans and then they get caught because they got hurt and now the humans are freaking out oh no

-Borrower who thought they got caught by a human and is now best friends with a zombie

-giant zombies that are sixty feet high but ignore humans because their brains are too small

-tiny zombies that sneak into your house and bite you while you sleep like mosquitoes

. . .

Aaannddd that's all I have for now!

If anyone takes inspo from this, please tag me, I'd love to see what you guys made!

Speaking of tagging...

@i-am-beckyu for tagging! Idk if anyone else wants to be tagged, tell me if you do, and I'll gladly add you!

[coffehbeans]

Prompts 35 and 70: Sleepover and Snacks

Masterpost of Stories (92 Prompts)

Talking about fluffy g/t scenarios turned into angst, have my writing after two months of nothing ashaush featuring characters from this future story that I hope to turn into a book one day.

As always, feedback appreciated! This one was challenging with the dialogues and I'm not a native English speaker, so if something's unnatural, please lemme know.

Synopsis: After losing most of his friends when he got diagnosed with hyperon syndrome, Ethan relies on the two that haven't left his side. But a relaxing sleepover turned-wrong puts their friendship to the test.

.....................................

Nothing had to change. That's what Ethan thought when he returned to university, one week after being diagnosed. Yeah, he did have twenty-or-so less friends than usual, after growing four feet in a week and all that, but who wouldn't? People with hyperon were feared, that's a natural reaction. He used to fear them before as well. Before he started to become one of them. There's a stinging pain that pang in his chest sometimes, though. It happened every day when the class ended. Ethan yawned as the class ended, shaking off his sleepiness. He sat on the floor, as he could not fit in a chair, and took notes in a tiny, to him, notebook as he left the brown curls of his hair cover his face and shield him away from the others' gazes. He waited for all the students to leave, focusing his hazel eyes on his lecture notes. It's best this way. He never was the tallest before the mutation, so he used to be one of the first to leave class with friends, but now... It felt too weird. Too much, he realized, as his presence was enough to scare people, since he loomed over everyone, covering them with his shadow. That feeling, of accidentally intimidating someone... He hated it. So it was best to wait for all of them to leave.

…

When the teacher dismissed them, Ethan sprung up from his seat after diligently taking notes of constitutional law class. He'd be a great public defender after all, his scores had to be top notch. Forgetting all about it for now, he rushed to one of his friends, patting him on his shoulder. "Let's grab a bite to eat, I'm starving!" His friend chuckled while the others joined in. "Finally someone got their ass out of the seat." "We had to wait ten minutes this time." another friend groaned, but her smile showed the complaint wasn't serious. "Quick, let's get him outta here before he decides to ask the teacher something." Another friend said as he shoved Ethan towards the door." "H-hey! I'm not gonna ask anything! Not this time, at least." He chuckled. And the group of friends walked together to the food hall, telling whatever came up in their minds.

… Ethan glanced up at those same friends, taking his eyes out of the notebook. ‘Amanda, Carson, Thomas...’ Through that moment frozen in time, their eyes met. Ethan put on a friendly smile and waved at them. Those three darted their gaze away, rushing through the crowd of students and out of the classroom. Ethan's wave froze in place, and he slowly retracted them back, heart sinking. His smile waned. ‘It's okay.' he thought. 'They're scared. It's normal that they'd be.' But still... Yeah. Ethan couldn't figure out a way for this to stop hurting. Ignoring the familiar pain, he got up, the ground getting far away under his feet as he rose to his full 12 feet stature. Was the ground even further this time? Has he grown again since yesterday? Probably. He won't think about it. Ethan was an imposing-looking man. After being diagnosed, his physique changed, along with his stature, in order to adapt to the increased mass. Naturally, he got stronger. Ethan already had an athletic build before, being part of the basketball team and all that. But now? It was too much. He was too much and he hated every part of it. Even hiding his body under his clothes, he still looked as bulky and broad as a heavylifter, the countour of his prominent muscles hinted beneath the cloth. And although his square face remained the same with his friendly, round eyes and his charming smile, the sheer thickness of his neck contrasted with his amicable expression. In short, although Ethan hasn't changed his personality at all, and he knew of this fact, it clashed so heavily with his new, intimidating body that most people preferred to not give him the benefit of the doubt. Ethan could understand that, he's been avoiding the mirror for a good few days now. And the added feet in height didn't help. In fact, the extra inches would not stop anytime soon.

Ethan ducked through the ten feet tall classroom door. The university prepared a pretty big door for him, but he saw himself having to duck more and more through the doorframe as days pass. He walked through the college corridors, looking at the ground and watching his step. From the corner of his eye, he spotted a few scared or shocked faces turn to him only to walk further away, ‘away from the monster’, he supposed. 'I'll get used to this.' He repeated this mantra in his head, over and over, but it was getting harder and harder to believe in it. Ethan took slow steps, one at a time, hands in his hoodie pockets. Heel first, then the rest of the foot, one after the other. He continued those steps until he reached the food hall. As he entered it, some tables turned empty when people fled in silence upon seeing his towering form, taller than a garage door. Sure, he could understand their reasoning. But really, do they think he's a high school bully that will crush their skulls if they don't lend him a seat, or something? Whatever. He won't stay long in there, anyway. He doesn't want to bother people. Last time he ate at the food hall, only nine feet back then, people would gawk at him when he ate his mountain of food. To call that experience uncomfortable was an understatement. Every day has been an embarrassing experience. His thoughts were, thankfully, cut short when Ethan saw two familiar faces. They waved at him, and he smiled back at then. At least he had Zora and Seb. Seb treated Ethan the same. He assured Ethan, again and again after he met Ethan at his new stature, that he was not scared. But the plump brunette also acted the part, remaining relaxed, hands in pockets as he addressed Ethan with the same chill look he always had. Seb had to look much, much more up at him now but, other than that, nothing changed, and Ethan's size wouldn't provoke a gasp of fear from his friend. He appreciated that. He really did.

Zora treated Ethan the same. But her case happened a bit differently. Well, it's fair she'd react the way she did: curious. The long haired Biotechnology student had a instigative nature. Zora asked him questions if she saw Ethan was comfortable to answer then, about how it felt to have the worldwide-feared hyperon syndrome, and if he got injured during his growth spurts. But aside from that, no flinch, no jolt, no trembling at his sight. On the contrary, she'd remain short tempered, climbing the big guy to yell at his face: "stop hating yourself, you dumbass", whenever Ethan distanced himself from them out of insecurity. When she scolded him, it looked way more comical than it should've been, as her 5 feet stature in comparison to his 12 feet one caused the size difference between the two friends to be the most extreme. Zora made Ethan feel too tall, but at the same time, it was as if nothing had changed between their friendship.

They really cared. "Hey." Zora called for Ethan in the distance. "How's it going?" Seb's much quieter voice followed. Both him and Zora got up, walking towards Ethan with no hesitation at all. "Hey guys." Ethan flashed his signature dimpled smile. One he used to show all the time to everyone. One he only shows now to these two. He appreciated them more than his "thanks" could ever achieve to say. Ethan wished for their friendship to remain like this, the same before the syndrome, the same after. They were the only friends left. And that's all he needed.

...

  "You guys should swing by my place tomorrow." - Zora started after they met up and left the food hall, to Ethan's relief. The outside part of the campus was open, not cramped, and he appreciated the lack of scared eyes. Even though the sight of him walking way slower than his two friends, who barely measured up to his thigh, looked strange to random bystanders. "Ya know, seizing the moment and all that. You should totally come." "It's midterms though. Why now?" Seb, the introvert, chimed in. "Ugh, don't be a buzzkill. Besides, I just got the PS6 and I need some test subjects." "What time will it be?” Seb changed his mind in an instant. The latest game console with the best graphics. No way he'd miss that. "What about you, Ethan? Friday night at my place?" Ethan came back from spacing out, stopping mid-yawning, and looked down, way down at Zora's short stature. He's spacing out a lot, he noticed. Maybe because that conversation reminded him of when he had something to do every week, going out to party and de stress after a stressful college test week at his Law major. He'd go to different houses, from different friends, or they'd all hang out together, Seb and Zora included. Drink, eat good stuff, dance. Ethan would talk to people until his throat went dry and he'd quench his thirst with beer untill he'd forget it all. As if he needed any drinks to be talkative, always laughing and bringing people along the conversation with his stories. People used to call him "life of the party" and he'd proudly admit it as true.

"Look who it is!" "If it isn't my best buddy Ethan!" He came running to them and tackled one of his friends in an aggressive hug.

"Aw, you miss me way too much, man!" "How was the game today?" "Scored." Him and his group of friends cheered in unison. "But wait, hear me out. You guys won't believe what happened till that match." And Ethan went on and on, while the friends who also played that basketball match added some details to the story. The rest of the group laughed in unison at the random antics Ethan told. … That's usually how Ethan would arrive at the place. Looking at himself now, he barely recognized himself. That confident, outspoken guy turned aloof and often quiet, his mind always drifting somewhere else, towards anywhere but the reality. "Hey! Earth to Ethan!" He blinked and looked down, way down at Zora. "Right. Um, sorry. Friday night at your place? Can't make it." "Why not?" Seb and Zora asked in unison, the latter raising an eyebrow. "Well, it's your house. Ceilings are low, all that. I don't wanna accidentally break stuff." He let out a lame chuckle. "Dude, seriously? You don't remember Zora's place?" "Yeah that's right. My house could fit two of you on top of eachother!" Zora teased as she pointed at Ethan. Ethan winced. House was an understatement, that place was a mansion. Ethan always was terrible at coming up with excuses, and now he had no more of them. "I don't know, guys. I just don't think it's safe." Seb sighed and looked to his side, while Zora groaned at Ethan. "Oh c'mon, we don't have all the time in the world. What if we won't get to hang out like this anymore? Carpe diem and all that, you know?" "Though 'carpe diem' at my house doing nothing sounds just as good." - Seb added. Zora nudged him to shut up, earning a laugh from their much taller friend. 'Zora's right', Ethan thought. He knew too well the weight of those words. Every day that passed, he felt new pain under his skin, in his muscles, his joints. And when he felt pain, he knew he'd gotten taller. And stronger. And broader. And too big and intimidating for his taste. The city got less and less adequate for him by the day, and Ethan knew that soon he would not be allowed inside the safe borders of Steelfort anymore.

And that soon he'd be as big as the other 130-feet-tall, unfortunate souls, that also got cursed with the blasted syndrome and that now roamed the wastelands outside of the city bounds. 'One month before they scort you out.' One month. His doctor's words echoed in his head. "I mean, that'd be great, I really think so. But..." - Ethan paused when he heard his voice too loud again. He can't get used to the deeper tone of voice coming from his mouth. He turned towards Zora as she cocked an eyebrow at him  "I reaaally don't want to stomp around and accidentally break stuff at your house." "Cut the crap, Ethan." - Zora snorted. - "You're probably the most careful mutant in this town." "Maybe even the most careful in America." - Seb said. - "Remember that time when we saw him walking down the corridor and someone tripped next to him, and he apologized over and over thinking it was him who made her fall?" Zora chuckled. "The girl was at the opposite side of the corridor, and even then you somehow still thought you stomped too hard or something. Honestly, Ethan, you're just a big softie." Ethan chuckled. How could he even go against these guys? "Alright, alright. I... I can make it." "Then I'll see y'all at my place this Friday, at eight." "Why so late though." Seb protested. "Quit being an old man." Zora retorted.

... Dusk had come to the neighborhood as the sun shone its last rays on the wide sidewalk. Ethan shook his doziness off with a yawn, as he treaded the fragile pavement with slow steps, flinching when he heard a louder thud than usual. It compared to walking on eggshells. He supposed he could walk faster, after all he's not big enough to destroy a sturdy sidewalk yet, but the significant amount of people walking, or rather, rushing past him indicated otherwise. He had to be careful. Being big also meant being prone to stumble, and if he so as much as hit someone accidentally, his days inside Steelfort would be over. And he'd never see his mom and friends again. Ignoring the chills crawling down his spine, Ethan walked painfully slow until the crowd dwindled. Relieved, he picked up his pace. Hyperon individuals can't take any form of transport, so he had to walk to his destination, which was a long trek, even for him. By the time he arrived at Zora's house, the sun had long set. And wow, what a house that was. It was sleek, with sharp angles, towering and grand. Pillars of marble adorned its extravagant front wall. Ethan whistled at the sight. He now knew why Zora told him not to worry, the ceiling of the first floor looked taller than his 12 feet tall self. That, was impressive.

The second floor, from what he could see outside, had a much shorter ceiling, but it still added to the house's impressive height. The front of the house had a monumental, luxurious wooden door, adorning its limestone grey walls. Ethan reached for the door, and sighed. No matter his worries, he agreed to go, after all. There was no going back now. He extended the tip of his pinky finger and gently, slowly, tapped the ring bell. He hoped he hadn't broken it by accident. Three seconds later and he heard the pitter patter of Zora's tiny footsteps. She opened the door and he backed away, allowing her to crane her neck to glance up at him. "Finally. You’ve arrived just in time to see Seb absolutely failing at this game." "Hey!" Seb's muted voice echoed lightly through the room. Probably the loudest voice Ethan heard from him in the three years they knew each other. "Must be a hard game he's playing." He smirked. "Yeah, right. He doesn't know the difficulty is set on easy." Zora's grin widened. "Anyway, come in." After going through the doorframe, Zora led Ethan to the living room. It was spacious, with a open layout that merged the dinner room and the actual living room. In it, there was a large, rectangular sofa, a fluffy carpet, and a 72 inch ultra-wide TV, in which a grim-looking FPS game was playing, with Seb's back turned to Ethan. The frantic pressing of controller buttons and the violent gunshots from the game were the only background sounds of the room. Upon the screen changing to a red "Game Over", however, Seb turned to his friend.

"What's up, big guy." "The ceiling, I guess." Ethan grinned, and Zora groaned at the awful pun. He sat crisscross in front of the sofa, on which Seb was sitting, both facing towards the TV screen. "Heard you're showing your pro-player skills at the new console." He said with sarcasm. "Shut up."  Seb kicked Ethan's left arm with a smile on his face. Zora disappeared at the kitchen, picking a drink and chips for herself, while Seb tried yet another failing match, with Ethan teasing him and his poor gaming abilities. After a while, Zora set her stuff on the ground table in front of the sofa, while Seb paused the game to pick a drink for himself. They spent the next hours like this, drinking soda and eating snacks, most of which Ethan had paid, since he knew he'd consume much more than both of his friends combined. They brought over some chips and popcorn, Zora and Seb playing competitive games while Ethan cheered on whoever was winning. Both were utterly terrible at it.

Maybe if he could still play games, he'd teach them a thing or two of its mechanics, but his hands already got too big for the controller. After a while they chose an action movie to watch, for which Zora turned the lights off, and before they knew it, midnight had arrived. Ethan's eyes tried hard not to close. He felt sleepy, too sleepy. The movie was heavy-paced, and he had a good last night of sleep so, why couldn't he keep his eyes open? "Hey, you can get comfortable, you know?" - Zora said, noticing Ethan was hunched over. - "You're in the same position for hours now, I can push the sofa a little so you can lie down." "Ah, don't worry, it's ok-" "Dude. Don't worry. It's no problem at all." She got up and started pushing the sofa away, to which Ethan helped her with much ease. She also moved, with Seb's help, the ground table further away from them. "Won't your parents be mad that you changed stuff around?" Seb teased "Wait, so there was a problem after all?" "They won't arrive till next week. I'll move the stuff back tomorrow. Simple." "What the eyes don't see, the heart won't feel." Seb replied. Later on, Ethan laid down on his side, facing towards the action movie in front of them. That position was better. Although, he was sure he'd fall asleep now. Was he tired from class? He still didn't get it. Usually, he has less energy than normal with his condition, but this was far too much- Wait. His stomach sank. Had he forgotten to drink his pills? His heart raced against his ribcage. No, he remembers taking it after lunch. It was okay. He was okay. The symptoms were controlled, and there was no major growth spurt predicted for the week. He took a deep breath and sighed.

He'd be okay. -than? Ethan?" He snapped back to reality to Zora's calls for him. "Falling asleep already?" Seb grinned at him. "Ah, Sorry. Got distracted a bit. What is it?" "Well, I was just suggesting Seb that we use you as a human cushion." "Oh. Wait. What?" "Yeah, what she said." - Seb replied. "You see, the sofa is far away, and you happen to have much more space that it anyway, so..." "Be our backrest for a while, will ya?" "Um... Sure, I don't mind."

...

Zora and Seb laid their backs against Ethan, in front of his chest. That was... Weird. But he supposed he shouldn't feel that way. It's just weird when not long ago the three would each sit at a corner of the sofa, with a bit of space left. And now he was the "sofa substitute" instead. But still, Ethan had to admit, seeing his two friends so small and huddled up in front of him was kinda adorable. He contained an amused smile, and they kept watching the movie, laughing and saying a snarky remark here and there about its comically horrible plot. It didn't take long for the three to fall asleep, Ethan's friends unconsciously leaning back against him and using him as a pillow. They slept like that peacefully for the remainder of the night.

...

Ethan opened his eyes to the sight of a square, closed-off room. No windows, no doors, only the grey walls and the suffocating smell of mold. His heart started to beat fast. 'It was that nightmare again', his subconscious said, but Ethan himself had little to no awareness of it. He looked down at his hands, noticing his appearance. He was back to his original shape. Skinnier, shorter, as if no hyperon had taken hold of his body. Yet, he couldn't find relief in this, a sense of dread washing over him. His breathing became labored by the second. 'Where the hell am I?' He thought. His eyes darted around the place as he twisted his head around, searching for an exit. No matter what, he had to leave that place. He had to. If he did, he'd be free. He would- A deafening rumble of the walls shook Ethan to his core. Realization hit him, eyes widening. The walls started to move, closing in on him. Ethan gasped, darting to the nearest wall and banging against the concrete until blood dripped from his knuckles. Out. He had to get out. He had to leave. 'Please, please-!' he begged in vain as the room moved further towards him. The ceiling lowered as well, brushing against his head and forcing Ethan to crouch and shield himself with his arms. He hyperventilated, pushing in vain the walls that ate away at the leftover space. Widened eyes, racing heart, stomach sinking to the bottom and he'd die, he'd die, he would- When the walls, the floor, the ceiling, everything started pressing against him Ethan let out a blood curling scream, gritting his teeth as he heard and felt the cracking of the walls against his skin.

...

Zora awakened to the sound of trees uprooting from the soil. Wait. Wasn't she inside? There were no trees where she fell asleep. The feeling of something pushing against her back jostled her awake. She opened her eyes, only to widen them when she noticed how much closer to the television she was. The ever-present sound of trees uprooting and rubber bands snapping filled the room.

As well as the pained grunts and shivers of a sleeping Ethan.

Her heart fell, deducing what could most likely be happening at that moment. Sitting up on the carpet, she slowly turned to her right. A hand on the carpet twitched as its fingers extended upwards, bones cracking as it did so. A mound of flesh lumped and pulsated under the stretching skin. Chills crawled up her spine. Shaking, she turned around. Her friend was growing at a rapid pace right in front of her. And he was not awake, shifting in a disturbed sleep. She shot a glance at Seb, who was still asleep, settled in a tricky position between Ethan's arm and his torso. If he stayed there while Ethan grew, Seb would... She rushed to him and shook her friend under the expanding arm. "Seb. Seb, wake up! Quick!" "Ugh. Whaat isss it..?" He replied sleepily. "Get away from here. Ethan is-" she hissed. Seb noticed movement around him, the space becoming cramped and warm, and jostled awake, scrambling away from the once-comfortable spot. The two friends watched Ethan for that split second, struck by shock. Ethan closed in the space between them and the TV as he expanded. The floor groaned under him and it wouldn't be long until his back crushed the sofa behind them and the table on his side. Zora was the first to break from the stupor, rushing towards Ethan's face and smacking it with her trembling hands. "Ethan. Ethan! Wake up! You idiot!" Her insult had no meaning under her worried, shaky voice. Seb broke from his shock a while after, approaching Ethan as his friend still didn't manage to wake him up, with Ethan tossing and turning as if he was having a nightmare. There was a risk those heavy arms would hit them while he's unconscious. Seb halted in thought. How to even wake up a giant? And there was the danger of him accidentally hurting them in a fright, too. But…

‘I have no other choice.’ Seb approached Ethan's ear, knowing very well the danger of it as Zora looked at him with widened eyes. And Seb screamed from the top of his lungs. "ETHAN! WAKE UP!" He jolted awake with a huge gasp, rising into a seating position so fast his arm collided against Seb, throwing him over the sofa and to the ground. Ethan gasped while Zora ran towards Seb with a frantic voice. "What's. What's happening...!" Ethan looked down at his hands. Cracking. Expanding. His stomach dropped to the ground.

‘No.’ He looked down at his friends who looked horribly terrified. No. Nononono. He scrambled away from them in fright, only to accidentally support his enlarging hand on the sofa, breaking it in half. He looked back at it. Heartbeat faster. He couldn't breathe. He couldn't breathe.

This was a dream. This was a nightmare. It wasn't real. It can’t be!

Panicked, he scrambled further and further away from the paralyzed friends. Their faces pale, widened, worried eyes. But most of all. Scared. His remaining friends were scared of him. Ethan groaned when he felt pain surging through his body as he grew more. He aimed for the opposite side of the room, crawling backwards until he reached the door for the courtyard. He slid it open, breaking more furniture in the process, and squeezed his enlarging body through the doorframe until he left the house and stopped it from collapsing. Once over the spacious backyard, only the sound of his own bones snapping could be heard. His frantic heartbeat and his gasps added to the cacophony of noises, until the sounds of his growth spurt subsided. Ethan was left exhausted, lying down on the grass and gasping for breath, parts of his clothing completely ripped apart like he's a freak show. …

His ears buzzed at the doctor's diagnosis. His mother, Helena, held his oversized hand with her shaking ones. "The exams confirmed it, but it was clear to us before: it's Hyperon syndrome." The female doctor stated in a professional tone. Helena suppressed sucked in a breath, holding back her tears. She strengthened her grip on Ethan's hand. Ethan looked at the doctor in disbelief, reality not yet sinking in. A delusional part of his mind kept affirming it wasn't the syndrome, just a normal growth spurt, even when at that night his body changed so painfully and so drastically and the bones protruding from his skin and the muscles tearing through his clothes and- None of that was real, right? It must've been a joke destiny played on him. It can't be. It won't be. Any moment and he'll wake up, he had to- He had a basketball match to win next week, Carson would make a birthday party tomorrow, he had a criminal law test to pass. He'd be a public defender one day. Damn it! He couldn't just be diagnosed with an incurable mutation that turned him into, into a... "The good news is that his growth is not the instant type, otherwise his chances of survival would be slim." The doctor continued informing Ethan and his mom, the former half-listening, half-drowning in the sound of his own racing heartbeat, waiting, praying, begging for the moment he'd wake up.

"The bad news is that it's not the slow type of growth either. His type of hyperon is harder to predict as each growth spurt vary in amount and frequency." Helena glanced up at her son with worried creases on her eyes, noticing how out of it he seemed. Yet the doctor continued, looking up at Ethan's distraught face with a composed expression. "I give him around one to two months before he's 20 feet tall." “20 feet?!" - Helena reacted. "We need to begin treatment as soon as possible in order to reduce any painful side effects of your growth." This was not a nightmare. It was real. It was happening. To him. A void formed in his heart. And his mom couldn't contain her tears any longer. “I'm really sorry, Mr. Greenwood."

…

He was curled up on his side, a ringing sound in his ears, the frantic heartbeat in his chest, and the sore throb under all his muscles. Tears gathered in his eyes as he gritted his teeth. His friends. They must be terrified of him now. No. They must have run away from here already, to alert the police officers that another hyperon host had grown uncontrollably inside the house, breaking everything in it. It was what he deserved. He destroyed his friend's home. He broke the furniture. He almost hurt them. Heck, wasn't that Seb who he threw off him when he awoke? Was he even alright?? No, he was hurt, that must've hurt him. They were having such a great moment too, enjoying each other's company. Having fun. And he ruined it. It was his fault. Ethan rose to a sitting position, hugging his knees and attempting to take deep breaths. If he panicked, it would only make things worse. The worst thing than a giant monstrosity, was a giant monstrosity that didn't act rationally. Deep breaths. In and out, in out in out in out- "... Ethan...?" A feminine voice coming from inside the house jolted him from his panic and he looked up, incredulous. Zora and Seb were standing just by the doorframe, looking at him with worried, but afraid eyes. "You guys..." Ethan's voice was all but a whisper. Shame attempted to take over him. He hugged his exposed stomach and crawled even further away, trembling from head to toe, looking much more scared than they did.

From Zora and Seb's point of view, they never saw their friend so vulnerable. From his curled-up position, the grown 22-year-old man looked like a kid scared of the monster under their bed. Ethan was the first to break the stifling silence. "It's... It's not safe here. You should go to the nearest police station and tell the incident. They..." He gulped down his trembling voice. "they'll find a way to get me out of here for your safety. And..." He looked at Seb who still wore a pained expression on his face, most likely from his injuries. "They'll give Seb medical treatment." "Hey. I'm fine." Seb interjected. "…Doesn't seem like it to me." "Ethan, look." Zora chimed in, approaching him slowly. Her steps still shook a little. Dang it, if only she could control her shock. But how would she even lie about being calm? She isn't. The living room is all over the place and she saw her friend fill up the room in minutes and almost crush Seb. She. Was not. Calm. But Zora knew Ethan thought of all of this. Ethan dreaded this happening since the beginning, she was the one who convinced him to come to her house. And heck, she knew she had made the right call. So she stepped forward, leaving Seb to lean on the glass door and pretend that he wasn't with sore ribs. "Look. I know what you're thinking. You're probably on a load of self - hating bullshit right now but, it's not your fault, okay? I'm fine, we're fine. See?" She walked closer and closer to her friend who, while sitting down, towered over her by what she guessed was 10 feet. She clenched her teeth. Crap, he got big. So that's how hyperon-affected people all turned out? So monumental... No, even worse than that.

Ethan finally looked down at Zora with a hollow expression on his face. He reached out for her with a hand and- She flinched and backed away. He knew it. He fucked up so badly. "Damn it! Warn a soul!" - Zora hissed. She knew her facade fell down right at that instant. Ethan sighed loudly and looked at her with the most crestfallen expression she saw her friend ever making. Hopeless. The face of someone who thought he made a grave mistake. Zora knew that was not the truth and she had to convince him it wasn't. But the instinctive part of her certainly wasn't helping with the whole "don't feel like a monster" spiel. She cursed under her breath. But Ethan said nothing. He just looked at her with those dejected eyes. Like all hope had been drained. Like he was losing both of his friends on that day. And Zora had, no, she needed desperately to convince him it wasn't the case. Because it truly, faithfully, wasn't. She opened her mouth to say something, but Ethan looked at Seb and spoke before she could. "How... How bad is it? Something's broken?" He attempted to even out his voice but it came out trembling and faint. Seb sighed. He knew that Ethan would not fall for his and Zora's trick at pretending everything was fine. It wasn't. And it's about time they're 100% honest about it. So Seb walked forward, as Zora looked back at him with an expression that screamed ‘don't tell a thing.’ "It's sore all over, yeah, but no ribs broken, I think" - he limped towards the looming figure of his friend, grunting from the effort." - everything hurts but, not in a unbearable way. Might get a purple spot here and there though." With both of his friends now close to him, Ethan could properly look at them. They looked so, so small now. Much smaller than before. He wanted nothing more than them to treat him like everyone else treated him. At least that way, they wouldn't be hurt. A knot clogged in his throat and his stomach twisted and turned at the realization. There was no going back. This was real. It was happening to him. His previously happy, fulfilling life was running out, scurrying through his fingers. "I really... Really screwed things up, didn't I?" - his voice turned grave and faint, and Ethan hung his head low. He took in a shaky breath - "I... I don't mind if you guys don't want to stick around me from here on out." "Ethan." - Seb, surprisingly, spoke up first. - “Not gonna lie. You scared the shit out of me back then." He walked closer to Ethan, shortening the distance between them. "But that's all there is to it, it was a scare. None of us were in control of the situation at that moment, that includes you." "And, and also, we got scared of what was happening, but that doesn't mean we're scared of you, you know?" - Zora interjected, seeing the perfect opportunity to make Ethan understand her point. "Yeah. So like she said, no self-loathing okay?"

Ethan felt like crying right then and there. How did these guys even manage to walk up to him like that? And say all those things, and choose to remain there with him? He couldn't understand it. But oh, was he so, so grateful for that. Even though inside he thought he would burst into tears, Ethan only gave a sad smile to them, softening his eyes as they pooled with tears. "You both are crazy, do you know that?" Seb laughed. "Of course that's what you'd say." Zora pouted, a sad glint behind her eyes. "Last night... It was really fun. Thank you. I just don't think my size will allow for it to happen again, though." "Hey, in the end Zora made the right call." "It's just like I said before." - she rolled her eyes. - "Seize the opportunity, and all that." 'Because it was my last.' Ethan painfully remarked in his head.

[narrans]

My Borrowed Son | 20 | Crush(ed)

Chapter Twenty | Crush(ed)

“No! It’s because you’re a nerd and know way too much about space,” teased Selina. Both she and Parker were howling with laughter after an in-depth conversation about space and the different elements of it.

Space. Stars. Comets. Black holes. Meteors and meteorites.

Everything Selina had a question about, Parker had an answer for, which naturally led to her teasing him. They had spent the past few hours going back and forth in discussion, playfully talking and teasing one another the entire time.

And this wasn’t the first time they’d spent most of a Saturday morning talking well into the afternoon and sometimes evening. For the past few months, the two of them could be found talking to one another either on discord or through messaging apps.

For Parker, it was a good distraction from the past few weeks during his relative obsession with the mysterious drill bit and the odd shadow he thought he saw when his eyes were playing tricks on him. Just last week, he even dared to venture into the walls and explore that mysterious space between the drywall and the supporting beams that made up his home.

He didn’t find anything, not that he thought he would, but there was still some odd sensation lingering in his chest that there was something that he was missing.

“I mean, seriously!” grinned Selina as she leaned forward toward her webcam. Parker snapped back to the conversation and kept his mind from wandering any further into the unknown. “Why do you know that there are almost ten thousand satellites orbiting Earth right now?”

“Nine thousand, four hundred, ninety-four active satellites. Let’s be precise,” grinned Parker.

“Oh what-ev-er!” Selina giggled. “What I want to know is how you managed to steer the conversation into space when we were talking about our upcoming Mario Kart tournament.”

Parker, grinning from ear to ear, felt his cheeks pinken as he looked up into the camera, imagining looking into Selina’s eyes instead of the cold lens that was in front of him.

“Well, you know there are a lot of different themes and arenas to choose from when playing Mario Kart and we were trying to decide which one would be the best. I think that the space themed one would be best,” pointed out Parker.

Somehow, the room was feeling a tad warm, and Parker was feeling nervous and giddy. It was like butterflies were swirling around in his chest. What was this feeling?

“I know, but there are a dozen other designs we could go with. There’s the original and the rainbow road. I love the rainbow road!” moaned Selina playfully. Parker chuckled and shook his head.

“We always do rainbow road. We need to mix things up a bit. Come on! We need to make a decision to send out in the group text today,” said Parker. He reached up and ruffled his hair, noticing that the length was starting to get a tad long and that his mom was probably going to notice any day now.

“Oh, don’t be a spoil sport,” Selina teased. “Why don’t you come on! We need to celebrate! We just finished finals. You, as usual, were in the top three – ya’ nerd – but I wouldn’t expect anything less from you.”

Parker’s cheeks burned hot with embarrassment. It was true. The finals went off without a hitch and Parker found his scores near the top of his peers, which was significant considering he was in the advanced classes with kids who were a little bit older than himself. The scores, for Parker, were a tad bittersweet.

On one hand, being part of the top meant that Parker was on a lot of honors emails and celebrations and shout-outs. It looked really good for his transcripts, especially since he was already considering specialized high schools and college programs that accepted students who were much younger than the average student.

Parker considered himself fortunate enough that his mother wasn’t pressuring him into any particular program. She wanted him to be happy, but the one thing that would really make Parker happy came with the bitter part of the bittersweet.

A lot of those accolades and awards came with get-togethers and parties – none of which Parker could attend except virtually.

It wasn’t the same.

Parker wanted to be able to go to these parties. He wanted to see his friends in person. He had known a lot of these people for three years and he had never met them face to face. Even the upcoming Mario Kart tournament was going to be in-person at his friend Bailey’s house, but everyone but Parker would be able to show up.

“Parker?”

“Hm?... oh… yeah,” stammered Parker as he found focus back on the conversation. He remembered Selina calling him a nerd after talking about finishing finals and not expecting anything less from him. “I am a bit of a nerd.”

Selina eyed Parker through the camera and leaned forward, those hypnotic eyes capturing Parker’s attention. He squirmed under her gaze. It was like she could see straight through him. If he wasn’t sure she didn’t know about his size, he would say that she guessed it simply because of this one look.

“Parker? Are you okay?” asked Selina. It was a question Parker didn’t care for recently. He wanted to answer honestly – which was no. No, he didn’t feel okay. Everything in his body was hurting and aching randomly. He didn’t feel comfortable in his own frame, and that was coming from him and his proud nearly four inches. His dreams had been odd recently. He was so spooked because he thought he saw a shadow that he literally ventured into the walls to find out if he was crazy.

But how could he articulate it? How could he get Selina to understand?

“Bummed about not coming to the party?” Selina’s prompting question brought a whole new level to Parker’s mental scramble, so he decided to go with that being the main reason.

“Yeah, a bit,” mumbled Parker. “But it’s okay. I’ll be able to call in through Discord.”

Selina rolled her eyes, which was a classic Selina move, and shook her head.

“I still can’t believe you put up with that,” she grumbled. This comment took Parker aback just a bit, and it wasn’t like him to just leave it alone. He decided to ask for clarification.

“Put up with that?” Parker asked. Selina gave an animated shrug and flared her fingers as if to say “duh.”

“Yeah, constantly being on lockdown. You talk about you having some weird condition that makes you fragile, but you don’t seem all that fragile to me. It just doesn’t make any sense to me. Can’t you ask your mom to let you come just this once?” said Selina. Her tone took on a weird combination of whining and pleading.

The familiar disappointing sensation crept over Parker, making his chest feel tight, as he solemnly shook his head.

“Selina, I can’t. I mean, I could ask my mom, but… my condition… I don’t think it’s a good idea,” said Parker.

“But why?” insisted Selina.

“Selina…”

“What? You’ve never really given a straight answer.”

“Because not everyone would be careful with me,” said Parker, for the first time raising his voice in frustration. He hoped Selina would drop the issue, but the determined look in her eye said otherwise. In fact, she looked terse and frustrated.

“Well… I’d be careful with you….” Selina grumbled. “And what does that even mean? Careful with you? Parker, I hope you know I’d never hurt you. I… I really like you…”

Parker’s world came to a complete stop hearing Selina’s words.

Like? Like him?

As in… she had a crush on him?

It would absolutely make sense. It would explain Selina’s behavior recently. She was very complementary. She was giddy and giggling most of the time. It reminded Parker of the romantic comedies that his mom liked to watch from time to time.

Parker remembered his mom talking to him about how things would be changing and the odd question of whether or not he liked any of his classmates. Only now did the teen realize this is what she meant.

Taken aback, Parker felt himself stammer, “L-like? Me?” before he could even stop himself. Selina, now blushing a bright pink, nodded bashfully.

“Yeah. I really like you, and I was hoping you would go with me to the party as my boyfriend.”

Parker’s head swirled. His heart was going to burst out of his chest. Everything was tingling inside of him. His insides actually felt like they were filled with butterflies now.

“I… you mean it?” asked Parker. Selina glanced up at the camera and bit her lower lip, which made Parker feel his heart begin to race, as she nodded.

“Yeah. Yeah, I mean it. So? Will you be my boyfriend?” asked Selina. Parker took in a couple nervous breaths. He thought about how Selina made him feel and how he felt excited and jittery when they were talking.

Was this love?

Parker wasn’t sure, but he knew he did like Selina.

“Well… yeah. Let’s do it,” grinned Parker. Both of them couldn’t stop smiling as they continued to glance nervously at one another through the camera. The young teen felt at a loss for words, but less than a minute had passed when Selina broke the silence.

“Great! Now, as my boyfriend, you have to tell me everything about you. Do I even know your favorite color? Oh, that’s right! It’s green. Like dark green. Okay. Got that. Um… yeah! So, tell me more about your mom. No. Wait. I can ask her when I meet her. Um… let’s see… Oh! I’ve got it!

“Since you’re my boyfriend and you always have to tell the truth to whatever question I ask, tell me more about your condition. Like, what makes you fragile? And you have to ask your mom – no, tell your mom that you’re going to the party.” Selina spouted off everything so fast that Parker’s head was starting to spin.

Some of what Selina said made a bit of sense. Honesty was a good policy, according to his mom, but he had never opened up to anyone about the specifics of his condition. Parker had always been secretive simply because he knew his condition was rare and that things were odd surrounding it.

It was now that the same sensation crept over him that kept him guarded. It was the same sensation that made Parker shy away from his mom’s hand and the feeling that led him into the walls.

For one reason or another, Parker’s instinct was to keep his condition a secret – and that’s what he did.

“Um… well… I… don’t know what else there is to say about it other than what I’ve told you,” said Parker, realizing how lame he sounded after the words came out of him. The look Selina gave him only confirmed that he was in trouble.

“Parker, we’re boyfriend and girlfriend. You can trust me with this. Don’t you trust me?” Selina bristled.

Parker felt taken aback and defensive all of a sudden. He’d never come across something like this before. He felt hollow and nervous, but also a bit angry.

Why was this an issue now? She’d never wanted to know before, so why was there additional pressure now?

“Selina, I do trust you. It’s just… there’s nothing else to tell,” urged Parker. He felt the same sensation creep over him as he kept his condition a secret – and it was one of reassurance. For whatever reason, Parker knew he was doing the right thing not saying anything else other than what his mom trained him to say.

Selina tossed her hair and folded her arms before retorting, “I don’t believe you. I don’t think you’re telling me the truth. If I were Bailey, I’d bet you’d tell. You two are sooo close.”

“Bailey? What does Bailey have to do with this? And of course we’re close. We’re best friends. Why are you bringing her into this? We were just talking about the get-together,” asked Parker, meaning to ask this to himself instead of out loud, but there was no retracting his words now.

“Oh, I don’t know. What does she have to do with this? Does she know? Would you tell her more if she asked,” accused Selina.

Disbelievingly, Parker shook his head as it began to swirl. “Selina, Bailey doesn’t have anything to do with this. She knows just as much as you do, which is what all of my friends know about me. I’m just a bit fragile and different. That’s all.”

What is happening? Where is this coming from?

“Parker, I can’t accept this. If you don’t tell me, I’m breaking up with you,” threatened Selina.

Parker couldn’t believe what he was hearing. Breaking up? They were barely together? Was this how all girls were?

He knew he liked Selina, but he wasn’t sure if he liked her in the same way. Sure, he enjoyed their time together, but all of this was really sudden.

Not only that, but Parker inevitably knew that his condition was something that Selina would have to deal with. He knew the lengths his mom went to in order to help him. Was that something Selina would be up to? Did he dare disclose his condition in full to save this five minute long relationship?

A million things hit him all at once, both for the immediate situation in front of him and for a future he felt like he was too young to comprehend.

He bit his lip as he felt himself crushed under the weight of what Selina just said. It was a lot – possibly too much – for right now. As much as he liked Selina, Parker wasn’t sure if he was ready to tell her everything.

Parker made his decision.

Between his instinct of keeping his height and condition close to his chest and Selina’s sudden erratic behavior, he knew what needed to happen.

“I… I don’t know what else to say. I’m sorry, but there’s nothing else to tell,” said Parker. Selina rolled her eyes and shook her head.

“Well, I guess that’s the end of that. Goodbye Parker. Have fun telling your girlfriend Bailey the same thing and see how she reacts. Next time a girl wants you to open up, maybe you should listen.” With that, the call was cut.

Parker, dazed and confused, felt like he had been punched in the gut repeatedly. He hoped he didn’t just lose his friend, and he hoped that none of his other friends were feeling the same way Selina was. If they were just as frustrated with Parker’s lack of additional explanation about his condition as Selina was, he would be friendless by the start of the party.

Chest heavy and sad, Parker closed down his computer, slunk over to his bed, and flopped down on the squashy mattress. He stared at the ceiling for several minutes as he contemplated everything that just happened.

Curses…

Yet another thing he would never be able to do face to face…

Why?

Why him?

Why was he so different?

And would he ever find that true sense of belonging?

~~~~~^*^*^*^*^~~~~~

Continue

Previous

Beginning

[beansthough]

New g/t fic Concept:

A borrower grows up and currently lives in a western themed antique shop.

He lost his family at a young age and with what little survival skills he had he learned to survive and has been on his own since.

The only skill he knew for sure was to stay hidden from Beans, because if you got caught then surly you would meet death or worse. His family had made a fine example of that.

But the one constant in this borrowers young life without parents to raise him is the never ending playing of old westerns on the many retro t.v.’s He sees these characters in himself and the many ways the these hero’s survived the Wild West.

His favorite film was about a simple boy named Jessie. Jessie just like the borrower grew up with very little and no family, he lived a very hard life.

But when Jessie was falsely accused of stealing the towns cattle and money, the boy has to go on the run and become the ultimate gunslinger, cattle roper, and hero to prove his innocence and find the real culprit to save the town.

And the borrower swore there was no better film on this earth. Jessie could do anything and be anything. Not to mention Jessie’s actor was in many other western films where he was this unstoppable hero.

So from then on the young Borrower decided he himself would be called Jessie, and he would live up to his name. He dressed like him, talked like him, and tried his best to live like him, while all the while hiding from the many beans who entered the shop.

And so the Cowboy Borrower was born…

—————-

Katie is a young woman who had just recently inherited a small amount of farmers land and the simple cottage that came with it. She’s ready to start her new life with her college friends the town over to help support her.

After living in her new home for about three months she has managed to start to raise chickens, a single dairy cow, of course her trusted barn cat Lucy.

It is after these three months that her college friends invite her on an outing to go antique shopping, and with at a glance at an empty shelf and her friends calling her how could she decline on a fun outing.

The group had just finished walking the square of this small town when a certain antique shop caught the young women’s eye. It was almost completely western themed.

It was no secret that Katie’s house was decorated in almost every fashion imaginable, but she did have a western collection that she would like to grow, and what better place to do that then here?

It was in that shop that she found truly the best find. A whole set of cowboy themed tea cups with a matching picnic blanket and basket, and the best part yet was the adorable tiny cowboy doll inside.

;)

My good people I give to you:

The Antique Cowboy

[sprout-gt]

I heard that your ask box was open…

a size shifter whose default is tiny but constantly shifts up to be in regular human society, who also hangs out with a bunch of collage frat bros so he doesn’t know if they’ll accept him if they knew he was tiny. Just the everyday strain of sizing up, trying to make sure his height is consistent but failing a lot, excusing himself just so he can have a small break, and don’t get me started on the hi-jinx that happens when he’s tiny at a frat club and tries to hide or he’s tiny in his apartment and his friends get in somehow and they don’t notice him on the floor. And don’t get me started on when they find out!

This scenario has bounced in my head so much like

this is a really interesting scenario, thanks for submitting it!! (and also, holy shit, the potential?)

i imagine the physical and emotional strain of trying to shift constantly would be pretty taxing, especially if you have to focus on getting your height exactly the same every time. the spike in heartrate every time the topic of height gets brought up, and concentrating hard on not shrinking from the nerves.

the shifter really likes his friends and loves hanging out with them, he just can't predict their reaction. every time he ducks away to shift into a more comfortable height in some tucked away in some secluded corner he can feel the pressure weighing down on him.

the shifter would probably be in a perpetual state of anxiety that any of his friends would call him out on his weird behavior at any time, because he doesn't even know how he would respond.

but i'm imagining when the shoe finally does drop, it's completely unexpected. maybe the shifter is hiding out in an unoccupied room, half his height just to give his mind some rest. and of course this is the one time, the one time, he neglects to check that the door is locked behind him.

one of his closest friends barges in excitedly, clearly looking for him, eyes immedietly locking in on his friend who not three minutes ago was eye level with him. the shifter immedietly snaps up to his reduced height. He's completely panic stricken, mind buzzing with anxiety and at a loss for what to do next.

his friend closes the door quickly behind him, locks it with a soft click, and slides his back against the door till he's sitting, equally unable to think of what to say. now, they both realize, they're at eye level again.

i imagine that the shifter confides in his friend about his size-shiftiness, and feels the weight that has been slowly crescendoing within him finally disperse. they have a really honest conversation, and his friend promises him he won't tell a soul, but he will be there if he needs him.

now, when the shifter is hanging out with his friends, he feels much calmer knowing that when the conversation moves to height, he has someone who will immedietly change the topic. if the friend notices him go a little quiet, clearly focusing on maintaining his height, he'll pull him aside so he can have a little break- while having someone to talk to.

there are a million different directions this can go, what a tasty idea.

[afraidparade]

"A Kinder Reality"

Word count: 3,088 Genre: G/T, Hurt/comfort, Angst Content warnings: Detailed depictions of panic attacks/intrusive thoughts, mentions & allusions to gore, death, and suicide, fearplay, possessive behavior

(PLEASE read the CWs as this one is a bit darker than some of my other stuff! sorry if it gets a bit heavy lolol. i tried to base this off of my own personal experiences, as i often have memory problems as a result of vivid dreams and intrusive thoughts that give me a lot of anxiety. there's also not a ton of hurt/comfort where the giant is the one hurting so i hope this fills that emptiness 👍)

__________________________

Luka’s eyes snapped open, the sudden light he had yet to adjust to making it impossible to differentiate up from down. His fingertips clawed into the sheets around him, as if grasping desperately for purchase on an incomplete thought he held in his hands only a moment prior. What was this? Where had he been until now? It was difficult to recall the details, but the ache of breathlessness in his chest and the icy sweat that saturated his nightclothes was evidence that the experience had been far from pleasant.

He remembered feeling alone, yet surrounded. Helpless, but he wasn’t quite certain of what it was that threatened him. There was a room with chairs and people and…something else. Something that he was desperately terrified of. And it wasn’t that those faceless figures around him refused to respond to his cries and offer him aid, because he didn’t cry at all. He didn’t make a sound. It was a dreadful sensation, sitting in that room and feigning calm, surrounded by those human-shaped husks. There was an overbearing presence behind him: the terrifying thing. Some sort of shadowy monster that sulked in a corner of the ceiling yet simultaneously managed to breathe down his neck. Luka could just feel its predatory anticipation, waiting for him to turn around, or speak, or blink, or any action it deemed unacceptable. He was sure it was there, yet no one else paid it any mind. Could they see it? Could they feel it? Did they even care that it was there? Did they even care that he was there? If the thing lunged down and ripped him apart right in front of their hollow eyes, would anyone even flinch? Perhaps they would feel grateful to the monster for ridding them of such a burden. Perhaps they would all be happier if he weren’t—

Luka pressed his tongue to the roof of his mouth and swallowed. Dry. Water, he should drink water. Shapes began to form in the fuzzy white void of his vision, and the man soon recognized the wall of his bedroom. Which meant all those vague and terrible memories had just been made-up. A dream. A rasp of air blew through his chapped lips, as if he was attempting to laugh out of spite. What a cruel joke. He already got a pitiful amount of sleep as it was, and now he couldn’t even be afforded the luxury of feeling rested when he woke up? Well, such was life, he supposed. At least now he wasn’t alone.

At least now…he wasn’t…

Luka froze, and his head throbbed. The space on the mattress beside him was unoccupied. He managed to twist his neck to survey the other side of the room, enduring another sharp surge of pain in his skull. Empty. His lips parted, but he stayed silent.

Wasn’t there supposed to be someone else there?

A third, more definitive pulse in his head caused Luka’s eyes to wrench shut. His hands shot upwards to nurse the pain away, but when that didn’t work, his fingers became more frantic, each scratching at his hairline as if they had a mind of their own. There was some sort of vile growth blocking his airway. He didn’t know where it came from. It felt like the same sort of inky malevolence that the carnivorous presence from before was composed of.

Was this…real? Had he actually woken up? 

He coughed, wheezing around the lump in his throat, panic setting in when he realized he couldn’t breathe. His diaphragm spasmed, and nausea followed soon after. His mouth was open, but if Luka was crying or screaming, he couldn’t tell. His sense of hearing had been reduced to a flat, monotone buzz. 

How could he be certain that this wasn’t the dream? That every memory of having someone beside him, someone that actually cared about him, weren’t just artificial fragments of a bright, fuzzy dreamscape his brain made to protect itself? How was he supposed to know which memories to trust?

A dark ring began to close in around the corners of his vision, blotting out his surroundings like the final scene of an old film. Maybe it was from the lack of oxygen. Maybe it was just a trauma response. But Luka couldn’t bear this feeling, not being able to tell whether he was tumbling or stationary, awake or asleep, alive or dead. If he was alone again. 

Again. 

Again, again, again, it always happened, he always ended up like this. As if he was always destined to be an afterthought to everyone around him. As if it really wouldn’t matter if a monster swallowed him whole. And bitterly, with the last scrap of his consciousness that could form coherent thoughts, he wondered which reality was kinder: one where he’d tasted love and fulfillment only to discover it was never his to keep, or one where he’d never experienced such bitter joys, and never knew the severity of losing them.

Maybe he could wake up in the room with the people and the monster. Maybe then, even if it was for a second, someone would spare him a compassionate glance while that shadowy beast tore into his ribcage and—

“…ka?”

There was something warm on Luka’s cheek. Tears? No. Though it was only now that he noticed their presence, those felt chilly and wet. It was a small pressure, but it radiated familiarity. A shaky, sudden inhale — his consciousness felt so faint, he barely registered it as his own — and a question were the first sounds to break through the fuzzy, intangible blockade around his ears.

“What happened?”

It took several deep, uneven breaths and bewildered blinks before Luka could manage to see just past his nose. A humanoid shape finally came into focus, but unlike the figures in the other room, this one had a face. And, upon closer inspection, wasn’t human at all. Deep, glossy pools of black with white pinprick pupils stared wide at him with concern, and from behind a quivering frown, he could make out tiny, pointed teeth. Reddish horns, an absolute rat’s nest of black hair, and an ill-fitting shirt stitched together by his own clumsy hands, all wrapped up in a three-inch package. The details were too intimate to be mistaken for a dream.

It was Faust. His wonderful, impossible, real Faust.

Luka couldn’t muster the coherence to form words. Aside from the fogginess he felt after finally, truly waking up, he was still parched, and his throat felt bruised from his battle for breath. A hand retracted from his face, the palm damp from the tears it had inadvertently smeared around, and slowly reached towards the confused demon. Faust reached out for it without a moment’s hesitation, causing Luka’s fingers to twitch in surprise. He was real. It was miraculous. He was real.

But that looming dread from before still gripped at his chest unyieldingly. What if one day Luka woke up and he really was gone? How would he be able to bear being thrown from one cruel reality to the next without the reprieve of someone else to comfort him? No, not just anyone else, but Faust. There was no one else. It had to be Faust.

What would he do if he lost Faust?

Luka didn’t know what he was doing. His body moved almost robotically, stuttering every now and then as his brain tried to process how to proceed, all while his unblinking gaze lost focus and bore forward into the same nothingness. His fingers curled around Faust’s body rigidly, and while the demon didn’t protest, he began to shift uncomfortably. The human’s hand pulled back towards his body, his grip unconsciously tightening as it moved, only stopping when his companion was held flush against his chest and there was no space left for his hand to retreat to. 

“Luka, this is— it’s kind of hard to breathe.”

Luka could hear him, so why couldn’t he stop? He didn’t want to hurt Faust. He would never do something like that. But he was so small. Even if daily life with a tiny imp had become routine, it didn’t change the fact that he was so very vulnerable. Ultimately powerless in the grand scheme of things. Beautifully unique, terrifyingly unique. There was no one else in the entire world like Faust. The big, dangerous, lonely world. Yes, it was so easy to keep him in place. It hardly took any effort at all. This was simply a reassurance that he had the means to keep Faust safe. To keep him close. To make him stay.

“Y-your heartbeat is crazy fast right now. Seriously, are you okay? I need you to respond to me, Luka!”

Luka’s chin lowered to brush against the hand trapping Faust in place, and without realizing it, his entire body had begun to curl around that point as well. It felt as though Faust was the very core of his entire person. This was beyond normal love, wasn’t it? This was obsession. Sick dependency. It disgusted him so, and yet his body refused to do anything but curl tighter. Like a boa constrictor wrapping around its next meal. Would he end up squeezing Faust until he stopped moving, too? It would be easy, Luka thought. Not that he wanted to. But it chilled him to know that he could.

“Don’t make me do this, Luka. I really don’t want to do this.”

Ah, this was what it felt like when they first met. The knowledge that he held this impossibly small being’s life in the literal palm of his hand, the understanding that he could take advantage of that, and the searing hatred Luka felt for himself when he did. It was horrible, but it was intoxicating, and he didn’t want it back, but a wretched part of him missed it. When exactly did he manage to overcome this feeling, Luka pondered? Somewhere along the way of falling for Faust? Realizing he’d need to change if he ever wanted Faust to reciprocate? Well, what did it truly matter if Faust reciprocated? Faust didn’t have to love him. He just needed to be here. He just needed to stay. Luka needed him to stay.

“…So be it, but don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

God, he was rotten. And delusional, too, to think he had actually changed. People don’t change. At least not people like Luka. Destined to be alone, again and again and again and again. He hated being alone. He hated himself. He hated this feeling. He hated that goddamn room from that goddamn dream. What was even the point? Why did he bother trying to fix something shattered beyond repair? What was stopping him from—

“Ca-li-for-nia girls, we’re unforgettable! Daisy dukes, bikinis on top!”

…

What?

“Sun-kissed skin so hot, we’ll melt your popsicle — wa-oohhh-ah-oohhh-oh, wa-oohhh-ah-oohhh-oh…”

Faust’s muffled voice faded after the last vocalization, possibly waiting to see if there was a response. Or possibly due to being out of breath. After that, total stillness descended on the scene. Almost as if someone had merely pushed the power button on a remote and turned off all the static in Luka’s brain. It took a moment for him to process what in the hell had just happened, but after rewiring itself, his brain recalled a certain fact he knew he could always rely on:

Faust was a terrible singer.

Once his lungs finally remembered how to inhale, his body relaxed from its tensed and coiled state, releasing the small demon from his desperate grasp. As his vision slowly came into focus again, Luka inspected Faust’s state worriedly, suddenly horrified that he may have actually inflicted harm on his roommate. He was flushed red from a combination of the larger man’s overwhelming body heat and the intense pressure that likely inhibited his breathing, but other than a few gasps and coughs, he seemed surprisingly unbothered. Which was relieving first and foremost, but upsetting in its own right. He deserved to be upset. He deserved to resent Luka. The man swallowed as he attempted to regain his voice. 

“...I hate that song,” he rasped plainly. He didn’t know what else to say.

“Yeah. I know,” Faust replied, still panting as he glanced upward, “I was sorta hoping that the hate and the shock would overpower…whatever it was you were feeling.”

Luka’s mouth hung agape. Had Faust really hinged both the wellbeing of himself and Luka on…an annoying pop song? And that actually worked? He couldn’t tell if the demon was an idiot or a genius. It was so ridiculous on so many layers that he simply couldn’t think about anything else. Those overbearing thoughts from mere moments prior vanished in a puff of smoke, just like that. Eventually he closed his mouth and allowed a small, warm grin to replace the anguish from before. He never smiled like this before meeting Faust. Funny, Luka thought, how very different his inner demons looked from the miniscule demon that stood before him.

 “It did. Thank you.”

“God, you sound like shit,” the imp grumbled. Luka took the not-so-subtle hint and slowly sat himself upright, fumbling for the bottle of water that he kept on his bedside table. “What even happened? I had only just left to find myself something to snack on, but I turned back when I heard you making weird noises. Next thing I know, you’re suffocating me.”

Luka hesitated as he brought the bottle to his lips. An intense feeling of shame weighed down on his body as he recalled his actions, as well as the thoughts that accompanied them. It was probably better that Faust didn’t know every last detail of what brought his panic attack on…specifically, the thoughts concerning him. Sure, they had roots in the anxieties that Luka harbored in the back of his mind, but in that feverish state they had been amplified a hundred fold. They weren’t his true feelings. Or so he hoped, anyways

“I just…had a nightmare,” he answered simply, taking a swig from the container. Faust’s eyes narrowed, clearly unconvinced that there was no other trigger for such an extreme episode, but he held his tongue. After all, he was in no place to doubt the impact of nightmares. Luka, not wanting to dwell in the uncomfortable silence any longer, continued, “I’m so sorry for putting you through that. It must’ve been scary. Are you hurt?”

The smaller shrugged nonchalantly. “It’s fine. I’ve been through a lot worse.”

Luka wiped at a trail of water that trickled out of the corner of his mouth before capping the bottle. That was right — they had both trudged through hell just to make it to that very morning together, hadn’t they? Faust’s trophy was a back full of scars. Luka’s was a drawer full of pill bottles. It was difficult to liken his own traumatic experiences to Faust’s – especially when the other’s past was still largely a mystery to him – but there was comfort in knowing they could relate to each other on a basic level. That they…weren’t alone. Maybe all the trouble up until then was worth it just to share each other’s company. Of course, it was possible Faust didn’t feel the same way. But he didn’t need to feel the same way. It was enough that he was there. 

Luka sighed and turned to Faust again. Given his state from a few minutes ago, it was remarkable how calm he felt now. Maybe that, too, was thanks to his companion’s presence.

“Did you ever get your snack?” he asked softly.

“No,” Faust huffed with a sharp thrash of his tail. After a pause, the small imp folded his arms and turned his pouting face away, adding with a grumble, “I can’t exactly get to the kitchen in just a few steps like you can.”

Cute, Luka cooed inwardly. It was a thought that he would verbalize on any other day just to watch the resulting adorable tantrum, but for now he figured he’d put Faust through enough.

 “Well then, would you allow me to make a nice breakfast as an apology for earlier? I think there’s enough pancake mix left for one more serving.”

The other’s scowl dissipated instantly, clearly more interested in food than maintaining appearances. “Hell yes! Apology accepted! Put some whipped cream on top and it’s apology double accepted!”

Luka laughed warmly and, after brushing away the last of the moisture that clung to his cheeks, gently extended a hand for Faust to climb onto willingly. Despite him being the one to prompt the action, though, he faltered when his smaller counterpart did just that. Even though he’d been forgiven, this simple act of trust didn’t feel earned. It was only a moment ago that he’d hurt Faust, after all. What right did he have to hold him now?

Seemingly picking up on Luka’s uncertainty (or just becoming impatient after being promised pancakes), Faust craned his neck to shoot an inquisitive glare upwards. “What?” he demanded.

“Aren’t you… I don’t know, a bit too trusting of me right now?” the brunette asked, unable to meet the other’s eyes. “Are you not even the least bit afraid that it might happen again?”

Faust scoffed. “Don’t be stupid. Of course it’ll happen again, idiot.”

Well, Luka hadn’t been sure as to what sort of answer he expected, but it certainly was not that.

“It might not be today or tomorrow, but sure, yeah, it’ll come back. Stuff like that doesn’t disappear overnight. But what kind of demon would I be if I was afraid of one measly human?” he pointed out, flashing a toothy smirk. “I trust you, Luka. And besides, I’ll always be around to knock some sense into you.”

Had Luka not spent all his tears earlier, he was certain there would be some welling in his eyes right then. He gave an earnest smile, a quiet chuckle, and asked, “So singing cringey pop music is your definition of knocking sense into someone?”

“It’s not cringey. You’re just a hardass.”

How fortunate Luka felt now to have woken up. Because truly, how could there be any reality kinder than this one he shared with Faust?

As they walked, Luka hummed a few notes between the pauses of their aimless chattering, before eventually groaning and cursing under his breath.

“Fuck,” he muttered,  “You got that stupid song stuck in my head.”

“Heh heh! You’re welcome.”

[smalltendencies]

Quick practice drawing before bed

(The mouth design was inspired by @mawsnclaws because I think it's a cool ass design. You just can't see the full arrow tongue)

[luckyloo13]

Ok so sick tinies??? Imagine how sweet?!?!

Teeny little coughs and sniffles and sneezes. Their giant caretaker having to oh so delicately wipe up any mess, basically dabbing their whole face with a tissue.

Or if it's a flu, oh!!!!! Giant caretaker sees their tiny friend sweating and making odd movements, and they realize oh no!!!!! And they scramble to try and find a small enough container. Maybe they're not quick enough, and poor tiny vomits on the table, or wherever giant placed them. Tiny would feel so bad, but giant doesn't care at all, just worried for their friend (and, its an incredibly tiny mess, very easy to clean)